


Eat Your Heart Out

by Shea M (bubblebee)



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Burglary, Consensual Sex, Crying, Erik Is Too, Eventual Smut, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Description of Murder, Heavy Angst, Logan Is A Sweetheart, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Poor Charles, Stalking, Sweet Moments, There will be some fluff, Unrequited Love, Warning: brief descriptions of sexual assault, graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-01 06:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 33,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12150177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebee/pseuds/Shea%20M
Summary: There's a serial killer stalking the streets of New York City, leaving a trail of heartless bodies in their wake, and Charles has suddenly found himself at the receiving end of a secret admire's handwritten love notes.





	1. Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing. I dreamed of this one night. Will be very graphic in depictions of murder and rape. If that's something that bothers you, please don't read. I will update as inspiration strikes if these first two chapters go well.

The sky was pitch black and splattered with stars when Charles walked out the front doors of the university, laptop bag dangling tiredly off of one shoulder.

He was exhausted, making his computer seem like it weighed 20 pounds more and every step he took last a lifetime. He was ready to just be home so he could take a nice hot shower, curl up with a cup of tea, and watch terrible late night television. Was that too much to ask?

He didn’t usually stay so late, considering his last class of the day ended at seven, but then the Dean had decided to call an emergency faculty meeting about staying safe and alert when leaving the premises-suggesting everyone try to leave in groups or even carrying a weapon of some sort-because the police had found another body not two hours ago. 

About three months ago, a woman walking her dogs on a hiking trail discovered the body of a man who had his heart carved out of his chest, when her dogs insisted on sniffing behind a thicket of bushes. He had been sexually assaulted, violently, and then beaten to a bloody pulp. Once the police were called and the woman had been given a shock blanket, they deduced it as a spontaneous murder brought on by an extremely disturbed individual who had possibly discovered their lover cheating, and then retaliated by savagely raping and beating them, cutting his heart out of his chest as literal metaphor for their broken heart. 

Not two weeks later, another body was found in much the same gruesome fashion, this time by a bus boy who was just trying take a smoke break. After that, the police had commissioned a mandatory curfew starting at seven o’clock on the dot and advised everyone to keep off the streets at night unless absolutely necessary for their own safety. 

New York City had a serial killer, and a bloodthirsty one at that. 

Due to his line of work, Charles had gone out and bought the most potent pepper spray he could find and made sure to carry it with him at all times, because he had to walk home every night due to his lack of driving and social skills. He didn’t live too far from the school anyways, and with his new found ability to spray someone in the face with a burning liquid, Charles pretend that he wasn’t living in some sort of cheesy murder mystery novel and went about his routine as usual. The world doesn’t stop turning just because someone got their heart broken and lost their minds over it. 

 

At least it didn’t for Charles Xavier, but after the events that followed this particular walk to his tiny flat above the only decent coffee shop in his neighborhood, he was going to start wishing that it did.


	2. Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles just wanted tea.

Charles arrived home safely not fifteen minutes later, dropping his bag on a chair near the door, he dragged his feet as he made his way to the bathroom, shedding his clothes and throwing them in the vague direction of the loveseat along the way. 

 

_ Shower, tea, food, tele. Shower, tea, food, tele.   _

 

Charles chanted this to himself the entire way home, hoping it would give him the motivation he needed to book it to his flat, because apparently the various murders throughout the city weren’t enough to make him walk faster, and it didn’t cease once he entered the shower. After doing the basics, Charles thought about touching himself, but decided against it when he realized he could barely keep his eyes open. Instead, he turned off the near scalding water and dried himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist and exiting the bathroom. 

 

The walk to his bedroom took a whopping twelve seconds, located at the end of the tiny hallway a door down from the bathroom. Charles’ bedroom was the messiest room in the whole flat, considering it was the one part that people didn’t see when they came over.  _ If  _ they came over, that is. Anyone with a decent pair of eyes could tell that Charles was the loner type, with his floppy chestnut curls and outdated sense of style, he was exactly what you thought he would be; a local genetics professor with a love for all things Shakespeare and an awkward personality to match. The only person to ever really visit his humble abode was his sister, Raven, and her whole place was as messy as Charles’ bedroom, so she didn’t have room to say much. 

 

Charles grabbed the first shirt he could find that wasn’t a work shirt and a clean pair of underpants from his dresser, then quickly got dressed so he could go start his much desired and long awaited cup of tea. While on his way to the kitchen, however, he was he was nearly startled to death by a loud knocking on his front door. Confused and a little alarmed, Charles looked at the clock above the television and discovered that it was half past midnight.  _ Who in the bloody hell was pounding at his door this late at night?  _ Cautiously on edge, Charles itched over to the door and peered out the peephole. 

 

The hallway was empty. There was no one around. 

 

Annoyance and unease settled heavily into the bottom of Charles’ stomach. It most definitely wasn’t the time to be playing childish pranks such as this. What was the point of a curfew if rowdy teenagers were just going to go run around as if nothing as amiss in the city? Shaking off of his nerves, Charles turned to go make his tea like he was going to before he was rudely interrupted. 

 

Once in the kitchen, Charles filled a kettle with water, set it on the stove to boil, and then went to his fridge to see what he had in means of a quick dinner. He spotted the carton of eggs in the back and decided that was good enough for him. He reached into the chill and grabbed the  carton, moving to set it on the counter next to the stove, but then promptly dropped it onto the tile when another loud knock sounded into the quiet of the flat. Charles nearly growled. 

 

Stepping around the gooey mess on the floor, he stomped his way over to the front door and tore it open without even looking to see what might be on the other side. Just like before, the hallway was barren of any persons. Charles went to step out into the hallway fully, hoping to see someone bounding down towards the end, but was stopped by a soft crinkle under his foot. He looked down to find a light pink card lying on the ground, just outside his door. Perturbed, he bent down and picked it up. 

 

It was addressed to him. 

 

_ Charles F. Xavier  _ was sprawled on the front of the card in neat, curving letters that Charles didn’t recognize as anyone he knew. The shrill whistle of the kettle from inside rushed him back into the flat, and after making sure all the locks on the door were latched, Charles set the card aside and began making his tea, before being unpleasantly reminded of the mess of eggs still lying on the kitchen floor. 

 

Charles heaved a heavy sigh. This night just wasn’t for him, was it?

 

After the mess was cleaned up and the tea was finally made, Charles sat down at the small wooden dining table that was crammed into an empty corner of the kitchen and picked up the soft pink card again. He traced his finger lightly over his name of the front, then flipped it open. What was written inside, in the same pleasing handwriting, nearly made his heart stop. 

 

_ The sweater you wore today really brings out your eyes.  _

_ I’d like to see you in that color more often. _


	3. Sweaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a lovely sweater, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize all these chapters are pretty short, and that might change, it might not. 
> 
> No warnings for this chapter, aside from Charles' loneliness.

Charles was unnerved and more than a little frightened by the card's contents, to say the least. 

 

Obviously, someone was watching him. 

 

Charles felt his gaze turn to the powder blue sweater still lying on the floor in the sitting room, completely unaware of its part in his internal panic. Someone saw him wear it today, and liked how he looked in it enough to send him an expensive greeting card about it. The card wasn't signed, it didn't even have a first or last initial, which Charles assumed was on purpose as not to give away the name of his newfound admirer. 

 

With the all the horrible things going on in the city lately, you could never be too careful or alert, and acting extra suspicious about the everyday people around you would probably save your life in the long run, but Charles couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit  _ flattered _ . He's never been on the receiving end of a secret admirer’s affections, or hardly anyone's affections for that matter. 

 

Charles didn't date much, but that's not really for lack of trying. He used to go out to numerous bars almost every night in his Oxford days, before he made the move to New York. He didn't have much luck there either, with his cheesy pick up lines and boring theories about genetic mutations that no one cared for or could even follow. He striked out most nights, and would return home with Raven defeated, but strongly encouraged. 

 

“Aw you'll get one next time, Charles. Don't look so beat up about it.” Raven would say, supporting all his drunk weight with an arm around his slim waist. “That's what you  _ always _ say, Raven.” Charles always slurred, voice glum and head spinning with intoxication. Raven would rub his back comfortingly, and Charles would hold his breath and try not to vomit the the back seat of the taxi she'd aggressively flagged down.  

 

The card was a bit creepy, yes, but it was sweet too and seemingly harmless. Just someone who saw him in one of his favorite sweaters and thought that he looked nice. It was most likely one of his students, as a number of them knew he lived above The Grand View coffee shop because they frequented it so often, and would sometimes catch him coming in himself for some quick tea and breakfast if he didn't have the time to make his own. 

Charles was still a bit unsettled, but ultimately didn't think that the card was dangerous. It was just a silly little piece of recycled material. It didn't necessarily mean anything, and Charles didn't think that the serial killer rampaging through the streets of New York City was going to pay him much attention. He's seen pictures of the victims of the news, and he didn't look anything similar to them. 

 

Well, maybe a little. They all had dark hair and light eyes and a similar build, but come on. This was  _ Charles _ we were talking about. He couldn't catch anyone's attention if he stood on his head and played the trumpet with his feet. Besides, half of the men New York had those characteristics,and it's not like Charles wasn't protected. He had his pepper spray with him always, and he knew enough self defense to get himself out of a jam. 

 

You had to in New York. This place was like a breeding ground for muggings and burglaries.

 

Suddenly, Charles felt like he couldn't keep his eyes open another second, and got up from the table to pour his now cold tea out into the sink. He wasn't particularly hungry anymore, too tired and still a bit on edge from tonight's happenings. He would make sure to eat in the morning before heading out to run his weekend errands, since he doesn't teach. 

 

After turning off the kitchen light, Charles headed to bathroom to relieve his bladder before shedding his shirt and going to bed. His thoughts were still stuck on the card as he laid there in the dark though, and the urgent knocking that brought it to his door. He was interested to see where this might lead. If he was going to be receiving more cards and what they might say this time, or if he'd be given little gifts too. 

  
What he should wear during his outing tomorrow was Charles’ last thought before sleep drug him into the darkness. 


	4. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the weekend. Time to run errands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Logan to be tall, so I made him tall. Sue me.

Charles woke gracefully the next morning, without the aid of a screaming alarm. 

 

He stretched and yawned his way to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth, then pattered to the kitchen to make his much needed breakfast. It was about nine am, which meant that Charles still had plenty of time to wake up fully before he braved the unforgivingly chilly streets outside. It was starting to get very cold, autumn reluctantly falling away, leaf by leaf, into an icy city winter.  

 

Charles mentally went through his wardrobe while he scraped together a breakfast of strawberry cream cheese bagels and Ginger Peach. He decided on a lilac sweater this time, and a plain old pair of jeans. While he normally wore slacks and khakis, this was the weekend and he wanted to be as comfortable as possible while he went grocery shopping and possibly paid a visit to his sister. Charles hadn't seen or heard from her in a few days and he wanted to make sure she was doing all right. She had a tendency to get into trouble sometimes, and he hoped wholeheartedly that she hadn't landed herself in jail. 

 

Again. For the third time. 

 

Raven was a strong spirited woman, and with her strong spirits came a stubborn will. She liked to join various protests around town and make friends at the ones that she agreed with. She also  liked to yell at and fight people at the ones she didn't, which would either land her in jail, or send her home with very pricey fines. Charles always paid them for her, and would scold himself while he did. Raven wasn't going to learn anything if he was always running to her her out of a hole. 

 

She  _ was _ his sister, however, and his only sibling. Not to mention his one and only friend, if he didn't count Logan, which he really didn't. Logan was...Logan, and he preferred to stay as far away from people as he could. He answered his phone every time Charles called though, which was  _ way _ more than he did with anyone else, so he had to assume that Logan had a soft spot for him. 

 

It didn't hurt that Logan was hotter than a ghost pepper on the sun, either. 

 

Charles finished his breakfast and morning tea then went to get dressed, making sure to grab a warm enough coat before grabbing his keys and locking up his flat. The owners of the coffee shop below preferred if the upstairs tenants leave the living space through the back door, so Charles went to make his way to the stairs, but spotted something that made his pause. There was a note taped to his door. Butterflies swarmed in Charles stomach, but he couldn't tell if they were from apprehension or excitement. 

 

He tore the note off the door, and unfolded it. Reading it revealed that it was just a notice from the couple downstairs, letting all the tenants know that the shop was going to be undergoing some renovations within the next few days and that they apologize in advance for any disturbance caused by all the noise. 

 

As Charles stepped out into the back alley, the butterflies flew away, and it was only after they were gone did he realize that they were there because they had been expecting another card from his admirer. 

 

Charles tried not to think about it too much. 

 

Grocery shopping went without a hitch, but seeing Raven proved to be more difficult. Charles couldn't get a hold of her, and after calling her six times, he decided to call the one mutual friend they had together. Logan answered on the second ring. “Hey, Chuck, haven't heard from you in a while, is everything okay?” His voice was monotone, but he still sounded slightly concerned. 

“Oh, I sure hope so, my friend. Have you heard from Raven lately? I've called her six times and she isn't answering. I'm afraid she might be in jail again.” Charles prayed that she wasn't. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the explanation as to  _ why _ .  

 

“Yes, I have actually, she's sitting right here in front of me.” Charles breathed a sigh of relief, that quickly turned into mild irritation. 

 

“Would you mind terribly if I chatted with her for a second?” Logan agreed, and there was a soft shuffle, followed by a whispered  _ I think you're in trouble  _ before Raven's sheepish voice flowed into the speaker. 

 

“Hey, Charles. What's up, how are you? You know, I was just about to come see y-”

 

“Oh save it, Raven, I'm very upset with you and you know it. You know how I much I worry about you and you couldn't even be bothered to answer your damn phone! Nevermind the vicious serial killer that's  _ ripping people's hearts out _ !” 

 

“Charles, seriously, calm down. I've been at Logan's almost all day, do you really think that  _ he's _ going to let some murderer come barging into his house?” 

 

Charles thought about it. Logan  _ was _ actually pretty intimidating. He towered over Charles by about eight inches, which isn't saying much, he supposed, since he was only about five seven himself. Still though, Logan was a big guy, and Charles didn't doubt that he could fight of an assailant if need be. 

 

Raven was safe with him. 

 

“Well...I suppose you're right.” Charles said reluctantly. He felt a little foolish now, but he's always been somewhat of a worry wart. It wasn't his fault he wanted to keep his only family member worth something safe. 

 

“I always am.” Raven said smugly, bubbly now that she wasn't in trouble anymore. “Also, there's someone here I really think you should meet. I met him at that bookstore downtown you like so much, you know the one?” 

 

Yes, Charles knew it. He went there practically every other week. It was one of his favourite spots in the city. He was a regular there, and was constantly looking to buy as many books as he could fit in his small space. Which was a lot, it would seem, because nearly every corner in his flat had a book on it. Just how Charles liked it. 

 

“Oh? Is he another contender for your heart? Do I need to be the mean and warning older brother?” 

 

Raven laughed on the other end of the phone. “Oh, I freaking  _ wish, _ Charles.” Her voice dropped to a conspiring whisper. “This man is  _ sooo _ damn hot, it's  _ insane _ . You gotta get your pasty ass over here, asap.” 

 

Charles chuckled fondly. “Okay, okay, just give me about half an hour to get back to my place and put my groceries up, and then I'll be over there.” 

 

“ _ Hurry _ .” 

 

With that, the line went dead, and Charles was a little miffed about not getting to say goodbye to Logan. He really liked the man. Charles stuffed his phone back into his pocket and got a better grip on his few provisions so he could start the freezing trek back to his warm little sanctuary. 


	5. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles hates taking the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Detailed depictions of sexual assault/molestation, so please be careful.

Charles had to take the train to Logan’s place because it was on the other side of the city.

He didn’t mind taking the subway, but it definitely wasn’t his favorite means of transportation. He didn’t necessarily enjoy being constantly pressed up against a sweaty stranger for the entire duration of the ride. He preferred to walk. It was good for him, which is why he rented a place so close to his work and where he got his groceries from. The train ride wasn’t completely unbearable, at first, but he was forced to get off a few stops early so he could walk the rest of the way. A man in the car with Charles kept trying to hold the same handle that he was, putting his hand on top of his in a way the man must’ve thought was sly. When he moved his hand and held onto one of the poles instead, the creep moved closer, practically melding the man’s front to Charles’ back.

That was when Charles decided to just get off at the next stop, no matter how far from Logan’s it was. _This_ was exactly why he didn’t ride the bloody subway. Charles scooted forward a few subtle inches, hoping the prick would get the hint. He didn’t, instead choosing to move forward with him, plastering himself to his back yet again. Charles did his best to just ignore him and keep his gaze forward. The train should be stopping soon to let passengers off anyways. The man started to shake behind him, and Charles was worried for a split second that he might be having seizure, until he realized that the man was laughing.

_Laughing_ at Charles’ futile attempts to get away from him. Laughing at how uncomfortable he _knew_ was making him. Charles tried not to show just how upset he actually was, not wanting the asshole to feel anymore satisfaction at his expense. Gripping the pole tight enough to make his knuckles pale, Charles tried to calm himself down, telling himself that the next stop wasn’t too far and then he could get off and away from the pervert. He didn’t get the chance to calm down much though, because suddenly one of the man’s hands was slipping around Charles’ waist, pulling him impossibly closer. He was about to open his mouth and tell the man to piss off, when he felt something that made his stomach _sick_.

The man was actually hard, and he wanted Charles to know it.

Charles swallowed down the bile that rose sharp and acidic into his throat. The bastard was _actually hard._ Sickeningly grinding himself against his backside with minute thrusts of his hips. Tears welled up into Charles’ eyes, and he was gripping the pole so hard that his hand actually ached. He knew he should _say something_ , make some sort of a scene and get the sick fuck off him, but he couldn’t open his mouth to form any sort of noise. He was frozen in place, stuck feeling the stranger behind him use Charles to get himself off. He could feel hot breaths being panted down his neck, and Charles has never longed for the cold of New York so desperately in his life.

Just when Charles thought he might actually faint, the speakers overhead crackled and a voice announced that they had reached their stop. He’s _never_ moved so fast in his entire life, practically running out the doors the moment they slid open. Once he was standing safely on the concrete of the platform, Charles was shocked to find he could hear the man cackling. Passersby looked at him in confusion and worry, but he just smiled weakly at them and kept walking on shaky legs. He didn’t breathe again until he was out on the street again, crisp cool air billowing over his heated and tear stained face.

Charles took a deep breath, wiped the remaining tears off his face with his coat sleeve, and continued on to Logan’s apartment. He got lucky with this stop, actually, because it just a few blocks away from where he currently was.

Thank heavens.

Raven was waiting for him on the steps of the apartment building when he got there, and she could immediately tell that something was wrong.

“What happened? Why are you crying?” She said sharply, standing up with a fire already burning in her sky filled eyes. Charles scoffed with affection, he should’ve known she’d notice that something was off.

“Nothing to worry about, darling, I’m fine now.” He said in what he hope was a reassuring manner. It wasn’t. Her eyes narrowed.

“Damn it, Charles, don’t you lie to me.” She was standing directly in front of him now, and even she was close to having to look down at him. “What’s wrong?” Charles sighed. Of course he couldn’t just forget about the unpleasant experience in it’s entirety.

“There was this asshole on the train that couldn’t keep his bloody hands to himself, but I took care of it and I’m fine now, Raven, I promise.” He didn’t and he wasn’t, but she didn’t need to know all that. He didn’t want her landing in a cell for the rest of the weekend because he was a coward.

She looked skeptical and ready to argue some more, but in the end Raven sighed and pulled him into a spine crushing hug. “I’m glad you’re okay and I hope you showed that dick that he couldn’t just go around groping people.” Her hands remained on his shoulders after she pulled away, looking in his eyes for something he couldn’t decipher.

“I did indeed, darling, no need to worry. As I said, I took care of hit.” The smile he gave her was more genuine this time, already feeling much safer in his sister’s presence. “Good. Now let’s get our asses inside, it’s fucking cold out here and we’re being rude to our new guest.” Charles frowned at her curse, but decided to let it slide in favor of berating her with questions about said guest.

She didn’t give him anything, though, just smirked knowingly and led him up the stairs and into the blessedly heated apartment building.


	6. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should've realized it was a set up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's dirty words. Logan reads. Beware.

Logan's apartment was much like Charles’ in the sense that the place was covered head to toe in books.

 

Charles was surprised the first time, too. 

 

“What? You think that just because I'm a bouncer I can't enjoy a good book?” He had snarked at Charles’ then astonished stare. “Oh, well, no of course not!” Charles sputtered, not wanting to offend Logan. “I was just surprised at the  _ amount _ . I've never seen an apartment so full of literature! I quite like it.” Logan had given him a half smile at that. 

 

Charles has known Logan for as long as he's lived in New York, him being the first person that he and Raven met that wasn't a complete ass. Well...in the non-friendly way that is. They had gone out to explore the city, and ended up and the club where Logan worked as a bouncer. 

 

Assuming they were underaged because of how young they apparently looked, he didn't let them in at first. Not until Raven had threatened to castrate him where he stood if he didn't _right_ _this instance_. Charles just showed him his ID with a groan and a glance in her direction, telling her to  _ behave for once _ . Logan just chuckled at them both, and allowed them to enter.

 

They've been pretty good friends ever since.

 

Charles liked visiting Logan's apartment, and not just because of the books. It always smelled like something sweet had just been in the oven, which was odd because Charles knew Logan didn't even know _how_ to bake, and the view from his living room window was much more aesthetically pleasing than Charles’, especially since he didn't  _ have _ any in his living room. 

 

Logan's windows just faced out onto the apartment buildings across the street, but it was better than boringly beige walls.

 

A man Charles has never met before stepped into the living room from the kitchen, snapping Charles out of his daydreams about better views and first meetings. Raven was right. This man was  _ gorgeous _ , with auburn hair neatly combed back with gel, dressed head to toe in clinging black, and icy blue eyes that went straight for Charles the moment he entered the room. Charles felt his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat.

 

Oh, dear.

 

This isn't what he needed right now at all.

 

The man walked forward, a sly grin itching onto his face as he held his hand out for Charles to shake. “Charles, I presume? Raven hasn't shut up about you since I met her. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.” Charles clasped Erik's hand in his, struggling not to get caught up in thinking about how the callouses on his hand might feel against his cock.  _ You just met the man, for Christ's sake.  _ Charles thought to himself.  _ You don't even know if he likes men. _

 

Raven did, though, apparently.

 

“Erik is single, too, Charles. Just so you know.”

 

“Raven!”

 

Charles said incredulously, his head snapping over to where his sister was standing looking proud and smug, like the cat that finally caught the canary, his face heating up and a scold already forming on his lips. It was just like her to do something like this. He should've seen this as the literal set up that it was.

 

_ Bloody fuck. _

 

Erik just laughed heartily, a light blush staining his cheeks as well, his eyes alight with bashful pleasure. It was one of the best things Charles had ever seen with his own eyes.

 

“No, no, it's quite all right. She isn't wrong after all. It's actually one of the reasons why I was invited over. We met at The Illiad earlier when I had come in to collect a book I had my eye on, only to find out that your sister bought the last copy.”

 

Erik looked over Charles’ head,  _ God he was tall,  _ at Raven and smiled sweetly, laugh lines coming to life at the corners of his eyes.  _ Jesus Christ. _

 

“I mentioned that to her and we got to talking about the book, among other things. She mentioned you when I said that I had just recently gone through a bad breakup, insisting I just  _ had _ to meet you, and I'm honestly glad she did.”

 

Erik’s gaze returned to Charles, a more seductive smirk on his lips this time.

 

“You're more beautiful than Raven’s poor description skills could have ever painted you out to be.” 

 

Charles could feel his ears turning red. He's never been called  _ beautiful _ before. Pretty, yes. Sexy, a thousand times.  _ Beautiful  _ was new, and Charles loved it. He was at a complete loss for words, no doubt making an utter fool of himself. He was just so stunned, he didn't know what to say. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything,  because a throat was being pointedly cleared behind him. 

 

“I'm real glad everyone's made new friends and lovers today, but I have to get to work now, so everyone's gotta clear out.” Logan said, smirking around a cigar. Charles had almost forgotten about him. “It was nice meeting you though, Erik. You guys should swing by the club sometime tonight, first round’s on me.” 

 

They all agreed. 

 

Logan walked them out so he could lock up, and then parted ways with them once outside with promises about drinks later. Charles turned to Erik. “Nothing would please me more than getting to know you better, Erik, but I'm afraid I still have a few more errands to run before we meet up with Logan again. I don't want to seem rude by running out on you guys, though.” He looked between the two, sheepishly, hoping it didn't look like he wasn't interested in Erik. 

 

Lord, was that  _ far _ from the case. 

 

“It's okay, Charles.” Erik said softly, his accent making Charles’ blood sing. “I promised Raven I would accompany her to lunch this afternoon. You're more than welcome to come before you head off, though, if you'd like.” They both looked hopeful, but Charles didn't want to impose on Raven's new budding friendship now that he knew Erik was reserved for him, otherwise he would've said yes out of jealousy. 

 

Raven desperately needed friends, anyways. 

 

“I appreciate the offer, my friend, but I'm not very hungry, anyways. Besides, you two just met and she get better acquainted. It would do Raven some good to make a new friend.” 

 

“Hey!” 

 

Charles laughed fondly, and after giving Raven a spine crushing hug of his own and what was supposed to be a parting handshake with Erik that ended up being him kissing the back of Charles’ hand, Charles made his was back to the metro. Praying that this ride wouldn't be like last time. 

 

Thankfully it wasn't, and Charles picked up his dry cleaning  _ and _ the file of tests he was supposed to grade over the weekend, making it back to his flat to retrieve his mail peacefully unmolested. Charles sifted through his mail on the walk to his flat, freshly pressed shirts hanging off of one arm. He paused to dig his keys out of his pocket when he got to his door, stuffing the mail in his mouth in the process. Charles had just put the key in the lock when he noticed it. 

 

Another card was taped to his door, his name written in the same handsome penmanship as before. 


	7. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbye is never easy, no matter how necessary it might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments, guys, they really mean a lot!   
> These chapters seem longer when I think them out.
> 
> Real things are going to start happening soon by the way, just hang in there. You'll get your money's worth.   
> Also, a fuck ton of people live in New York City. It's bananas.

He brought the card inside, pulse racing and butterflies returning full force. 

 

His fan had been here while he was out, which meant that they had been watching him again today. Charles thought back to the events of the day so far, and his mind immediately stopped at the creeper on the train. Was  _ he  _ the person sending him the cards? Charles sincerely hoped not, because the bastard had given him a very shitty first impression. The sick feeling in his stomach came back at the thought of the incident, so Charles moved on, thinking of the other things he did. 

 

No one really stood out to him at the dry cleaners, especially since he was the only one in there at the time besides the employee. It was the weekend, too, so most his students were either in other classes or somewhere else very far from the school. He didn’t even run into anyone he knew when he stopped in to grab his tests. The only people he really saw today were Raven and Logan. 

 

_ Oh, and  _ Erik _.  _

 

How could he ever forget about “Sex on Two Legs” Erik? 

 

He hadn’t, really. The man’s been on Charles’ mind ever since he left Logan’s apartment, making it difficult for him to finish up his chores since he was battling an erection almost the entire time. For the first time in a long time, Charles was actually  _ looking forward _ to going out tonight, because it meant that he got to see Erik again. He might even take him home with him tonight, if Erik was willing.  _ God _ , he hoped he was. Charles didn’t think his hand was going to be enough to alleviate the heat that Erik made him feel, and this was based on looks alone. 

 

He didn’t think he would survive the night if he ended up being the “gentleman in the streets, but a sex god in the sheets” like the few glimpses Charles got of him earlier hinted at. That was almost his exact type. Throw in wholehearted compassion and brains to rival his and Charles was  _ hooked _ . 

 

Line and sinker. 

 

Erik seemed like a good match for him. He could only hope that Erik felt the same. 

 

Charles sat the card on the kitchen table, along with the rest of the mail. He’d look through them all, card last, after he put up his clothes and made himself some tea. He shuffled down the hallway to his bedroom, opening up the closet doors to neatly hang his shirts up when something reflected in his mirror caught his eye. The window was open, drapes dancing slightly with the chilled breeze that billowed in. Perplexed, Charles walked over to look out it, hoping to find an explanation out on the fire escape. He was four stories up, his flat being on the very top floor, above the two others and the coffee shop. Not finding a reason behind the open window in the cold air and creaking metal-he honestly didn’t expect to-Charles shrugged it off and reasoned that he must’ve forgotten to close it last night before he went to bed. 

 

He liked to leave it open while he slept, since it tended to get pretty stuffy at night, with him living so high up and what not. He pushed the window closed and made sure to lock it tight, then shut his closet doors and left his bedroom. He was going to need to remind himself to always shut his window after he got up, or even in the middle of the night if he got up to use the bathroom.  _ There was a killer out there, for Christ’s sake.  _ He couldn’t really afford to be so careless, now. 

 

After making his tea and finding a light snack, Charles sat down to go through the mail, eager to read what his fancier had to say about him this time. The post was as unexciting as always, mainly bills and coupons to places around town that Charles never went to. When he finally got to the card, his hands were shaking softly. This card was slightly smaller than the last, and was a creamy white with black curving lines on all of it’s sides, leaving a little window for his name to be neatly written in.

 

Charles flipped it open. 

 

_ Now I’m convinced that you look good in every color.  _

_ Especially the red that graces your skin when you blush so prettily. _

 

Of course they weren’t going to make it easy for Charles. He’s had a light flush to his skin for the majority of the day on account of the cold and his is thoughts of Erik’s calloused hands. This could be anyone of the nearly  _ nine million _ residents here. The message itself was just as favorable as the last, causing a small grin to spread over Charles’ face. He almost felt like a 12 year old girl that was getting notes slipped into her locker, hoping it was someone cute or even her current crush, but also knowing that it could be the creepy kid that sweats too much and breathes too harshly while simply sitting. 

 

However, since his meeting with Erik, he noticed that this message had lost some of the novelty that the first one had. It’s not that he wasn’t  _ curious  _ about the whole thing, who it could be and why they chose him of all people, but that’s all it felt like now. A simple curiosity. He wouldn’t think that Erik would appreciate little love notes for Charles popping up every other day if they  _ were  _ to get together. Not wanting to ruin his chances before anything even happened, Charles decided that he would write a little message of his own, politely explaining his thoughts to the faceless stranger. 

 

Charles found some pleasant stationary and a nice fountain pen.

  
  


_ Dear Suitor,  _

 

_ Let me start by saying that I am extremely flattered by your interest and the beautiful cards that you leave me.The whole gesture is very romantic.  _

 

_ However, I must inform you that I recently met someone, and am very interested in having a relationship with this person if things go well.  _

 

_ I’m sorry to say this, but I’m afraid that your generous affections will have to come to an end, my friend.  I don’t want to jeopardize the chance I’ve been given to have an actual relationship for the first time in a long time.  _

 

_ I want to thank you for your time and interest, despite their short lives, I’m sure the cards weren’t very cheap. I hope you find someone in life who will actually get the chance bask in the all the affection you have to give.  _

 

_ Goodbye, sweet admirer.  _

 

_ Sincerely, _

_ Charles F. Xavier _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is spidersonparker if you want to come scream or chat with me.


	8. Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles doesn't go out much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not too exciting yet, but it's getting there! I promise! 
> 
> Thanks for all the support! <3

Charles showered before he got ready to meet with Raven and Erik at Logan’s club, and now he was standing in a towel before his opened closet, cursing his choice is attire.

 

He didn’t necessarily own the type of clothes that you actually _went out_ in, because he never did. He wanted to impress Erik, though, so he was aiming to look less like Sunday school teacher and more like an enticing dessert just begging to be devoured, because he _was_.

 

Begging to devoured, that is.

 

In the end, he decided upon one of the only shirts he owned that wasn’t meant for winter, which was a soft maroon t-shirt that dipped teasingly loose into his collarbones and a dark pair of jeans that hugged him tightly in all the right places. His hair was a lost cause, though, the curls refusing to listen to Charles’ pleas to behave, so he just let them pout and mope on his head.

 

It seemed a bit silly to Charles to put all this effort into getting dressed up to a club, what with the early curfew and all, but he wasn't going to miss his chance to see Erik again. It was only about four in the afternoon, so he most likely wasn't going to be drinking much.

 

Raven might already be, if the slightly garbled text she sent Charles earlier telling him to get his skinny ass down to Logan’s before she has to personally escort him there, and that he won't like it if she does, was anything to go by.

 

Charles made sure he had his wallet and phone before he walked out, pausing at the kitchen table to pick up the letter he wrote his secret admirer. He locked his flat door, and then firmly taped the letter to it. _To My Secret Admirer_ was written on the outside of the folded piece of paper, so as not to he confused who it was for.

 

It wouldn't do to have his landlord stumble upon it and think Charles crazy. Even though him leaving notes for a secret admirer but already name him as such. 

 

Oh well.

 

The walk to The Hellfire Club wasn't too bad, only being a few blocks away from where Charles’ lived. Before Charles moved here, The Hellfire Club used to be owned by some really bad people, and it actually used to be a strip club, instead of a bar with a wide dance floor in it.

 

The owner, a man named Sebastian Shaw, constantly abused his employees, and would even sell his dancers out to anyone that offered a hefty enough price. Needless to say, the NYPD caught on to Shaw’s nefarious activities, and promptly shut him down. He was sent to prison for a time Charles didn't bother to remember, and the club was turned into what it is now.

 

Logan's brother, Victor Creed, is the resident owner now and the place is apparently doing far better than it ever did when it was full of frightened bare women and perverted men on drugs. Well, good for them. Charles was proud.

 

Logan was guarding the door when Charles walked up. It being a Saturday night, there was a small line that looked to mainly consist of nervous underaged persons that Logan had no intention of letting in, but he wasn't about to tell them that.

 

Poor kids

 

Logan whistled low and suggestive at Charles once he saw him. He rolled his eyes at him, but felt himself blush anyways. He only hoped that Erik had a similar reaction to seeing him tonight.  Logan held the door open for him with a wink and a _go get em tiger_. Charles entered the darkened club and scanned the floor for Raven and Charles.

He found them tucked into a corner, drinks half gone in front of them. Erik seemed completely sober, laughing amusedly at the giggling heap of blonde hair pouring onto the table. He sat down on the empty stool in front of them, already sighing fondly at his sister's state, and immediately Erik's attention snapped to him.

 

His eyes roamed over Charles appreciatively, bordering near hungry. His blush darkened, and Charles was suddenly very grateful of the low lighting. He smiled over at Erik in what he hoped was a seductive manner, which Erik returned with a lick of his lips before greeting him.

 

“Hello, Charles.” He purred. “It's good to see you again.”

 

Before Charles could say the same, Raven's head bolted up from the table so fast he feared she had whiplash. “Charles!” She squealed in drunken delight. “I'm _so_ glad you made it! _Erik_ here was starting to pout. He's been _asking_ _me_ _things_ about you ever since earlier!” She leaned over the table, shielding her mouth on the wrong side as she stage whispered.

 

_“I think he likes you.”_

 

Erik's eyes closed in defeat and his body jerked a bit as he kicked Raven under the table in retaliation. She made a noise of defense and then promptly started laughing so hard Charles thought she'd vomit. He giggled, _actually giggled_ , at Raven's words, a bit shy now that he knew Erik was interested in him as well. This was going better than Charles expected it to.

 

_Hallelujah._

 

Charles scooted his stool over closer to Erik, so it would be easier to hear each other over the music booming through the speakers. He also just wanted to be closer to him in general, but no one needed to know all that. _My god he smells amazing_ Charles thought reverently. There was a burning heat pooling in his stomach already and Erik hasn't even said ten words to him. There's no way he'd make it out alive tonight.

 

“I’m sorry about my sister, and my late arrival. There were a few things I had to take care of before I came down here.” Charles put his chin in his hand, looking coyly at Erik through his lashes. He might not really _need_ to flirt anymore, but where was the fun in that?

 

It was having the desired effect, anyways.

 

Erik just stared at him for a beat, eyes glazing over for a second as he nearly drowned in Charles’ oceanic eyes, before he blinked and opened his gorgeous mouth to speak.

 

“That's all right Charles, I understand completely, and don't worry about Raven, she's no bother to me.” Erik glanced over to where Raven was _supposed_ to be, but apparently she had wondered off. Charles wasn't going to worry about it for now. Logan was round, she would be safe. “She's actually very good company. I like her quite a bit.” His gazed returned to Charles, heated now that they were alone.

 

“Although...I wouldn't do to her the things that I want to do to you.”

 

Erik leaned closer to Charles, so close that he could smell the alcohol on Erik's breath. He seemed certain in his hold over Charles, which was almost a dramatic change from the man he met at Logan's, where he had been confident but still sheepish and eager to please. Now, however, he had a look in his eyes that said he _knew_ what he was doing to the smaller man, and that he intended to show him just _how_ _much_ _more_ he could do.

 

Charles was going to die. He was certain of it.

 

The burning in his stomach spread lower to his groin where his cock twitched in interest. He squirmed in his seat, breath coming in soft pants. He let the hand that wasn't still supporting his chin find Erik's on the table, fingers dancing invitingly over the veins that were prominent there. Charles was _obsessed_ with these hands, always imagining all the different ways they could touch him.  How they would feel on his cock, or on his thighs, or even _inside_ him.

 

_God, this man was going to be the death Charles._

 

After their heated moment had passed, they made interesting small talk, their hands still connected in front of them. Erik really _did_ know a lot about Charles, thanks to Raven. He knew that he was a genetics professor at Columbia, and that he lived really close to there because he couldn't drive. He knew that all Charles normally wore were sweaters, cardigans, and dress pants. He knew that Charles was passionate about his career and that he loved to read. He knew that Charles was allergic to short haired dogs and strawberries. He also knew that Charles was more wealthy than he looked, having inherited _a_ _lot_ of money from his step father of his death.

 

He knew so much, in fact, Charles didn't really have much to tell him about himself that he didn't already know. The only thing that came as a surprise to Erik was the fact that Charles has been single for the past five years.

 

“I just don't understand how someone like you could be alone for that long. I mean, _look_ at you, you're _stunning_ and you have a personality to match.”

 

Charles learned a lot about Erik, too, like the fact that he was a fairly successful defense lawyer and that he's won more cases than he's lost in his nearly 15 years of work. He enjoys literature as well, and has a closet mainly full of expensive suits, with plain jeans and t-shirts scattered throughout. He's allergic to peanuts, and frequents the gym more than he does his own living room.

 

He lives in a condo in the Upper East Side in Manhattan, and owns two cars: a brand new black Mercedes-Benz and a pink 1965 Cadillac Coupe De Ville convertible. He hailed from a small village in Germany, which explained the accent Charles faintly heard, and was Jewish, but he didn't keep kosher. He likes bacon and pork chops very much, and he lost his both his parents when he was about 12 to a drunk driving accident. The most surprising thing to Charles, however, was that he used to be married to a beautiful woman when he was in his early 30’s.

 

The marriage only lasted for six years before she died of an accidental gunshot wound to the stomach, right in Erik's arms.

 

Charles teared up at this information, squeezing Erik's hand and apologizing for his lost.

 

“I'm sure she was an amazing woman, and that she loved you very much.” He said gently, to which Erik smiled softly through his own tears. “Thank you, Charles. She was, indeed, but I think I've found someone who could rival her in those aspects.” Erik looked him meaningfully, right in the eyes. Charles’ heart skipped a beat, his breath caught in his throat. For a moment, Erik looked scared, anxious of rejection at such a forward statement. Charles merely smiled, lacing his fingers with Erik's.

 

“I hope you have, my friend. I hope you have.”

 

Charles did end up having a couple of drinks, Raven suddenly appearing out of the blue with Logan in tow who was carrying a tray of assorted alcoholic beverages. They all drank and even danced together for a while, before Erik got a phone call from a colleague of his regarding the case he was currently working on, and was forced to call it a night.

 

“I'm so sorry to run out on you like this, schatz, but I'm afraid I have to.” He murmured to Charles, reluctant and apologetic, clutching his hand to his chest, right over his heart.

 

“Oh it's all right, darling, you can just make it up to me over dinner some time.” Charles said daringly, raising a sharp eyebrow to Erik with a sweet smirk on his face.

 

Erik laughed, gave Charles his number, and said he'd be honored to.

 

“Text me later, before you go to bed, so that I can tell you goodnight.” Erik whispered into Charles’, then kissed him on the back of the hand before exiting the club, wishing Logan and Raven a goodnight.

 

Shortly after, Charles decided to head on home too, not feeling the loud music and sweaty bodies anymore now that Erik was gone. With pleas from Raven to stay and get drunk with her, and a clap on the back from Logan that nearly knocked the wind out of him, he started the walk back home.

 

It was already getting pretty dark, and Charles hurried to his flat, not wanting to be caught out in the cold unawares but anyone or anything that might jump out of the dark. His hands were practically numb from the cold when he got to his door, making him fumble and drop his keys. He bent to retrieve them, and when he stood back up he noticed that his door was oddly bare.

  
The letter he left his admirer was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no beta tester besides myself, so please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes I've made. I tried.


	9. Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles was only gone a couple of hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, Charles.

Charles wondered how close his fan lived, because he had only been gone for a little over two hours.

 

Meaning he had to live sort of close, _or_ he didn't obey certain traffic laws to get here while Charles was gone. Each time there's been something left, he'd only been out of the house for a few hours. Said fan had to of have been watching Charles almost _all the time_ in order to leave the cards while he was away from the flat. Dashing in and out without being noticed by the other tenants or even the employees of The Grand View, which around here would be kind of hard. Unless they found some other way in.

 

Like a window.

 

Kicked by terrified realization, Charles shoved the key into the door and nearly busted it down trying to open it, almost screaming at the sight that greeted him once the door banged loudly against the wall.

 

_The entire place was trashed._

 

The TV was busted, lying on it's back on the floor, joining the bookshelf that looked as though an axe was taken to it, splinters of wood and pieces of paper littering the floor. The couch was ripped up. Photographs and dishes were broken, scattering glittering shards of glass all over the place. The bathroom mirror was broken too, filling the sink with jagged reflections. His clothes were thrown everywhere in his bedroom, dresser drawers pulled out and a few broken. The mattress was nearly pulled off the box spring, it’s bedding missing entirely, even the pillow cases.

 

And the bedroom window was wide open.

 

Charles looked around his room in shock, skin buzzing as he took in all of his destroyed belongings. Tears were running down his face and he could barely breathe. When his gaze fell back on his beloved tattered sweaters, he noticed something hanging off the one unbroken thing in the whole place. His closet mirror.

 

There was another card.

 

This one didn't have his name on it in pretty calligraphy, though. There was just one angrily jotted message written in jarringly red ink.

 

_You. Are. Mine._

  


After the police were called and a report had been filed, in which Charles told them all about the cards and how he believed he was being followed by a dangerous individual, they left by saying a car would be posted outside his house for the next few nights because of the break in for his safety but that nothing else could be done unless he had _actual proof_ that he was being stalked.

 

Apparently, cards depicting his outfit of the day and one that aggressively stated he was someone's property, not to mention the very violent assault to his personal space and _his fucking stolen bedding_ weren't enough to go on.

 

“We can't know for sure that you _breaking things_ _off_ with your alleged stalker and this break in are connected. If someone tries to break in again, call us.” The officer said, patting him on the back.

 

Not knowing what else to do, Charles collapsed onto the tiny hallway's floor and cried until no sound came out.

 

Eventually, he got up and called Raven, who had thankfully been dropped off at her house by Logan after his shift ended. She cried too, unintelligible for a few moments before she finally caught her breath.

 

“Stay _right there_ , Charles, _don't move_. Keep your door and windows locked, we'll be over there as soon as we can.”

 

Without asking who _we_ was, Charles hung up and slumped against the wall. It was probably Logan, anyways.

 

Speaking of Logan, Charles should call probably Erik.

 

He went to the contact for him that Erik put into his phone. _“Erik L. <3” _stared back at him and Charles felt himself smile weakly. What a charmer.

Surprising, Erik picked up on the first ring.

 

“I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me.” He cooed into the phone as a greeting. Charles huffed something like a laugh.

 

“I could never, darling.” Charles murmured, voice hoarse from crying. He hoped Erik wouldn't notice.

“What's wrong, schatz? You sound upset.” _Oh of course. What else was Charles expecting?_ “Charles? Are you okay?” He sounded worried, honey accent laced with panic.

 

“Yes, yes, I'm fine Erik, no need to panic.” Charles hoped he sounded convincing.

 

“You're lying.” _God damn it._ Charles sighed.

 

“Well...there's been sort of an... _incident_ at my place.”

 

“What _kind of incident, Charles_?”

 

There was a pregnant pause. “I've been broken into.”

 

A sharp inhale. “ _What.”_ He sounded angry.

 

“My flat’s been broken into, Erik.” Charles whispered, before bursting into tears again. He could hear Erik cooing comforting words at him, but he couldn't quite hear them over his sobbing. All he heard was _be right there_ and _kill whoever did this._

 

The line went dead, and then there was a knock on the door.

 

Charles got up on shaky legs, using the wall for support, to answer the door. Raven looked manic, and Logan looked deadly.

 

“Oh my God, Charles, are you okay? Are you hurt?!” Raven screamed, grabbing his face between her freezing hands.

 

“Where'd the bastard go?” Logan growled around another cigar, stepping through the door like he was ready to punch anything that moved too fast.

 

“Yes, I'm fine, just a bit shaken and I don't know who it was they were gone when I got here, left the place like this.” Charles waved behind him at what used to be his safe and comfortable home.

 

Now it was just a disaster area laced with fury and fear.

 

They helped him clean up the best they could, sweeping up glass and picking up overturned furniture. Logan said he'd come back by with his tools to fix his bookshelf and dresser, and Raven offered him her spare queen sized comforter set, pillows included. Charles tearfully thanked them both for all their help. He was so lucky to have people like them in his life.

 

Fortunately, being the sole heir to a shitty step dad's inheritance came with it's perks. Replacing certain things wouldn't be a problem, moneywise. He'd get his bedding and his dishes and his TV and his clothes and even his couch back.

 

He wouldn't get his peace of mind back, though. He wouldn't get the comfort he felt when he was sitting in the couch watching his shows. He wouldn't get his _home_ back. It would just be a small flat he rented above a simple coffee shop.

 

Charles got the extra blanket and pillow from the hallway closet and curled up in a tight balls on the torn loveseat, one single thought plaguing his  mind and painting everything red.

  
_You. Are. Mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watch a lot of SVU and crime related shows and it seems like ignoring it until acid gets thrown is how they deal with stalkers. I wouldn't know though.


	10. Croissants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik arrived exactly one hour after Raven and Logan had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support and comments! You're all too nice! <3

Erik arrived exactly one hour after Raven and Logan had left. 

 

Charles had been dozing on the couch, exhausted from crying and everything else that had happened, and it wasn't even eight o’clock yet. A hesitant knock sounded into the flat, startling Charles awake. He got up from the ripped couch warily, walking the few feet to the door to look at the peephole, sighing in relief when he saw Erik's concerned face. 

 

He undid the chain lock that he never thought he'd have to use and let Erik inside. He immediately cupped Charles’ face in his large hands much like Raven had earlier, but Erik was  a lot more gentle about it, like he was scared he'd hurt Charles. 

 

The sweet gesture made Charles’ heart ache in his chest with adoration. 

 

“Oh, Charles.” Erik breathed, eyes overflowing with emotion. “I'm so sorry this happened, schatz. You didn't deserve this.” He brought Charles to his chest in a warm, comforting embrace. Charles wrapped his arms around Erik's astonishingly small waist and breathed him in, basking in the feeling of  _ safe.  _ Erik smelled something like spices and coconut, and Charles did his best to commit the smell to memory, almost wishing he had something of Erik's to wear so he could keep the scent a little longer. 

 

Erik's fingers carded softly through Charles’ curls while he cooed comforting nonsense into them. His other hand rubbed semi circles into Charles’  lower back, and the mixture of the two were about to make him fall asleep right where he stood. Erik seemed to pick up on this. 

 

“Come on, schatz, let's get you to bed.” He began to walk backwards, guiding Charles and his sleep heavy body towards his bedroom, but Charles didn't want to sleep in his room, too dangerous now that the intruder chose it's window to crawl through to invade Charles’ home. He would rather sleep on the couch. 

 

He voiced this to Erik, who simply shushed him said that he'd be safe because Erik was going to be with him. 

 

“I'll be right there beside you the whole night, Charles. Anyone or anything that wants to hurt you is going to have to go through me first.” Erik said firmly while waddling them down the hallway backwards, making Charles laugh at the unexpected silliness. “I trust you, Erik.” Was all Charles said. 

 

When they got to the bedroom, Erik looked perplexed. 

 

“Why is your bed bare, Charles?” 

 

Charles scoffed out a heavy sigh. “They took all the bedding with them...after they...destroyed the place. I can only imagine why.” 

 

Erik turned his gaze from the naked mattress to Charles, anger burning behind his blue eyes. Charles held up the blanket and pillow. “I'm afraid we'll be sharing tonight, my friend.” He said dryly, crawling onto the chilled bed. He covered himself up with the thin blanket, then held up a corner for Erik. 

 

There was a beat, and then Erik removed his thick coat and took off the shirt underneath.  _ Of course he's built like a god. _ Charles thought, exasperated. He tried not to stare, but the knowing smirk on Erik's face as he settled in next to Charles told him he was failing. 

 

Charles thought it might be a bit odd, spooning with someone he just met earlier that day, but it wasn't. He felt protected and warm, safer than he's felt in a couple of days since the first card. He couldn't believe, looking back, that he ever thought it was romantic for some complete stranger to leave him such personally invasive notes. Couldn't believe that he let himself get  _ that _ lonely. The cards were sick. That's all they were, right from the beginning. Charles was just too insecure to realize it. 

 

_ There will be no more of that, then. _ Charles decided, wrapped up in Erik's strong embrace, before he drifted off to sleep. 

  
  


Charles woke up the next morning feeling groggy and oddly out of place, unable to put his finger on what was wrong. 

 

Until last night's events came swimming back. 

 

The break in, the mess, the window, the note. It all came to Charles in a saddening rush, causing his breath to quicken and fresh tears to spring into his already sore eyes. A movement to Charles left startled him, until he remembered that Erik had spent the night, swearing to defend him against anything that might want to cause him harm. 

 

“What's the matter, schatz?” Erik mumbled groggily, wrapping Charles up tighter in his arms. 

 

“Nothing, now darling, don't you worry about it.” Charles whispered back, scooting as close as he could to Erik and his spicy coconut scent. A kiss was pressed to his forehead, and then Erik's breathing evened out again, having fallen back asleep. 

 

Truly content with everything for once, Charles followed Erik back into the soft kiss of sleep. 

  
  


When they woke up again a few hours later, it was already 11 in the morning, so they decided to just get up.

 

It was Sunday, and since neither of them had to go in for work, Erik suggested that they go out for a very late breakfast. Charles, pleased at the idea, quickly agreed and went to shower before they left. Finding clothes that weren't torn was a challenge, and just when he was about to give up and wear what he had on yesterday, Erik pulled a sweater and a pair of jeans out of one of the only non-broken drawers in his dresser. 

 

Charles could cry. 

 

In fact, he did, the events of last night and the weight of them crushing him all at once. Everything was ruined in his home, and the bastard that did it was most likely going to get away with it, leaving Charles scared and nearly broken himself. That wasn't the worst part, though. 

The worst part was that it was all his fault. 

 

It was his fault because he left the note telling the stalker to leave him alone, and by not doing it earlier, maybe he even encouraged them.  _ How could I have been so stupid?  _ Charles thought to himself as he sobbed into Erik's chest. It was the same as it was last night, with Erik's fingers in his hair and circles being rubbed into his back. 

 

“Oh dear, I'm so sorry, Erik.” Charles said after he'd calmed down, embarrassed at his outburst. 

 

“You hush, Charles, you're all right. There's nothing to apologize for. I can't even begin to imagine how all this makes you feel.” Erik murmured into his hair. “I just wish I could make it all better for you.” 

 

“Well, you being here with me is helping quite a bit. So thank you for that.” He smiled softly up at Erik, tears clinging to his eyelashes and making the blue orbs look like the oceans they really were. 

“You are very welcome, schatz.” Erik whispered between them, a sweet smile spreading over his face. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Charles’ forehead, then handed him his clothes so he could get dressed and they could go eat. Erik put on the clothes he came over in and they headed out the door, Erik making sure all the entrances were securely locked before putting an arm around Charles’ waist, letting him lead the way out of the building. 

 

They decided to go to a little diner a few blocks over that served all day breakfast because Charles was craving buttery croissants and decently strong tea. Erik got pancakes and a heaping plate of bacon, which Charles picked off of. They chatted about this and that and when they both had full stomachs, Erik paying the bill to Charles’ protests, they walked about the city huddled closely together for warmth against the chilly early winter air. 

Charles didn't once think about his stalker, too busy being wrapped up in Erik's arms to even bother. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes! 
> 
> You're all invited to my wicked party on Tumblr @spidersonparker.


	11. Boxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's been another murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, I know. I just want you guys to suffer. *cackles*

Charles and Erik were walking out of The Iliad, Erik carrying their purchases in the arm that wasn't wrapped around Charles,  when they noticed the crowd.  

 

There were at least 15 people standing behind a strip of yellow tape, CRIME SCENE stated in bold, black letters over and over. An ambulance and four cop cars were also parked along the street. Curiosity and they walked over to where the crowd had gathered to see what was going on.

 

Officers were firmly telling people to keep back behind the line, having given up on telling them that there was nothing to see here, because there very obviously was. Charles was having troubles seeing what was behind the tape, too short to see properly from his spot in the back next to Erik. Going by the grim, horrified look on his face though, and the amount of police officers that were around, plus the ambulance, it wasn't hard to put two and two together.

 

There had been another murder.

 

Suddenly, two news vans pulled up on the crime scene, reporters and camera crews spilling out of them to broadcast the latest murder. Journalist also showed up, and started yelling questions about who the media dubbed as _The Heartbreaker_ , to the officers and investigators.

 

_“Do you have any new leads on this murder case?”_

 

_“Do you have any suspects on who The Heartbreaker might be?”_

 

_“Why do you think they're doing this?”_

 

_“How many more people are going to have to die before this bastard gets caught?”_

 

_“How long are we going to have to continue living in fear?”_

 

Charles had heard enough. He wanted to go home.

 

He tugged on Erik's coat sleeve, hoping he'd get the hint. He did, and they continued on back to Charles’ flat, leaving the throng of people and camera flashes behind, Erik tucking Charles more tightly under his arm.

 

On the way there, Erik told Charles about an old case of his, where a man had sued his ex-wife for their two pet pigs and a bottle of 15 year old cognac. The whole story was ludicrous, from start to finish, the most surprising part being that they had won. Charles laughed the entire way up the stairs, and was still laughing when they got to the hallway leading to his flat. 

He had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard, and so did Erik, who immediately stopped laughing once they reached Charles’ door. Sobering up so quickly it nearly gave Charles whiplash. He was staring at something on the floor, and when Charles followed his gaze, he stomach dropped to the floor and pooled in his shoes.

 

There was a blue box wrapped in an elaborate pastel pink bow, sitting in front of his door. A peach colored card perched neatly atop it.

 

Erik was the one to pick up the box and bring it inside, setting it on the newly scratched kitchen table. They both just stared at it for a moment, debating on what to do.

 

_What if there's a bomb or anthrax or something like that in it?_ Charles thought, nearly manic with worry. _What if whatever was inside hurt Erik too? Why did he have to bring him into this?_

 

_Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy??_

 

Charles reached his hand out hesitantly, to pick up the card and read it first. He's done that plenty of times. What's one more?

  


_It's for you._

 

_It's always been for you._

 

_All of_ _them_ _were for you._

 

_They_ _were_ _you._

 

_One day, you'll be them, too._

  


It was the longest message Charles had received.

 

Written in the same red ink as before, the words grabbed Charles by the throat and squeezed. He felt like he couldn't breathe. _What does it mean? Who were they? Why would Charles be like them?_

 

_What the hell was going on?_

 

_It's for you_. The box. The gift. The only way Charles was going to have any chance of figuring anything out was if he opened his “gift”. Maybe it would be enough evidence to show the police, make the lunatic back off and leave Charles alone.

Erik was silent beside as he read the card, but spoke up once Charles reached for the box.

 

“Let me open it, in case something bad happens. I don't want you getting hurt.” Charles nodded and stepped aside a bit as Erik reached for the box. He slowly unraveled the bow, setting it off to the side. Then he took the top off, and Charles thought he was going to be sick.

 

It was a heart.

 

_An actual human heart._

 

Sitting bloody and all too _real_ in a pile of white tissue paper.

 

Charles’ hand flew up to his mouth, more tears filling up his eyes for the umpteenth time that week. He just barely made it to the sink before he was emptying the contents of his stomach into the garbage disposal. _A fucking human heart._ He wasn't stupid, he knew what this could mean.

 

The Heartbreaker was his beloved stalker, and Charles was most likely his next unwilling victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dun!!


	12. Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik was the one to call the police, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, but I think you'll like this chapter. :)

Erik was the one to call the police this time.

 

The leading detective for The Heartbreaker case was an attractive woman by the name of Moira MacTaggert, who questioned Charles after his stomach had settled a bit. 

 

“You recently reported that you were being stalked, Mr. Xavier? Can you tell me about that?” Detective MacTaggert asked, sitting across from Charles and Erik on the coffee table. It was only other place to sit besides the already full loveseat. 

 

“Yes, uh...three days ago I heard someone knocking at my door at nearly midnight. I didn't answer it at first because I thought it was just some kids playing a prank, but then they knocked again, and when I answered it there was no one there, but a card had been left right outside the door.” 

 

“What did this card say?” The Detective's eyebrows were drawn into a tight frown. 

 

“I have it around here somewhere, if you'd like to see it. I don't know if you'll need it for anything…” Charles trailed off, unsure of himself. He felt Erik put one of his hands on his back, grounding Charles. 

 

“Yes, I'd like to see anything you have from your stalker, if you don't mind. There's a chance they could've left prints or something else behind that could help us identify them.” She smiled encouragingly, at Charles, who nodded and got up to retrieve the cards from a junk drawer in the kitchen. 

 

“They only sent me the three before the one I got today.” Charles whispered, voice clogging in his throat with the threat of more tears. 

 

MacTaggert simply nodded, and read the cards Charles handed her, her face pinched in thoughtful concentration. When she finished, she motioned to an officer to bring her an evidence bag, and slipped the cards into it before handing it back. 

 

“I admire your courage though all this, Mr. Xavier. I know this can't be easy for you, feeling so unsafe in what's supposed to be your own home, but I promise we're going to catch the bastard that's doing this.” She looked very determined, and Charles found that he didn't doubt her for a second. 

 

“So you think they're the same person, then? The stalker and the killer?” Erik asked from behind Charles, a large hand still massaging shapes into his back. 

 

“Considering what's happened here today, I would assume so, but we can't rule anything out all together just yet. Charles’s stalker and The Heartbreaker could be working  _ together _ to terrorize him. We can't be sure yet.” 

 

Erik nodded, expression hard and unreadable. 

 

MacTaggert went on. “I will be posting an officer outside your apartment for around the clock surveillance and protection until we catch whoever's doing this. Nothing more is going to happen to you if I can help it, Charles.” 

 

She leaned over and put a hand over Charles’, eyes soft with compassion and determination. Charles thought she would be an amazing mother, if she wasn't one already. 

 

“Before we leave you two alone, is there anything  else you can think of that might be worth mentioning? Anything at all?” MacTaggert asked softly. 

 

Immediately, Charles thought of the train. 

 

“I don't know if there's a connection to everything that's happening or not, but around the time I got the first card there was this...incident…on the subway while I was on my way to visit a friend.” 

 

Charles shuddered at the memory, wishing he could just put it behind him entirely for good.

 

“A man standing behind me became a bit too friendly. Attempting to hold my hand, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me too him when I tried to pulled away, even going as far as to...rub himself on me. I never once saw his face or heard him speak actual _words_ while he did this. I only heard him laugh.” 

 

It still haunted Charles in his sleep, echoing through the dark. 

 

Detective MacTaggert jotted the incident down, shaking her head slightly as she did so. 

 

“People make me sick.” She said viscously, almost to herself. She looked up from her notepad, sheepish. “Excuse me, that was unprofessional, I just don't  _ understand _ humans sometimes. Thank you both for your time, I really appreciate it, what you've told me today will help a lot, I'm sure.” 

 

She shook both their hands, telling them to keep in touch should anything else happen, handed him a card, appointed a guard dog to Charles, and within seconds he and Erik were alone again. Charles sighed heavily, setting the business card on the table and leaned back into Erik's arms, nestling his head on the man's chest. 

 

“Why is this  _ happening to me _ , Erik? What did I do that was so spectacular to warrant this kind of attention?” Charles was tired. He just wanted it all to end and be done with. 

 

“It was nothing you did, schatz. Some people are just sick minded and obsessive over things they know they can't have.” A kiss was pressed into his hair, Erik's arms tightening possessively around the smaller man's body. 

 

_ You. Are. Mine. _

 

Charles thought this alarming message at Erik's words, but they didn't bring with them the thought of his terrifying stalker. They brought Erik, instead. 

Charles was Erik's, that much was apparent already, and if anyone wanted him they were going to have to go through Erik first. Charles smiled with the thought. He wouldn't mind being Erik's. 

 

“So...Thai food? I'm starving.” Charles said hopefully. Erik laughed, those gorgeous lines appearing at the corners of his eyes again. 

 

“Yes, Charles. Thai food.” 

 

After they had consumed enough food to feed an army, they decided to take a nice, fat nap. It was only almost two in the afternoon, so they had plenty of time. Charles still needed grade those tests, but it could wait until later this evening. He was tired, and just wanted to be close to Erik. 

 

They moved to the bedroom after cleaning up all the takeout boxes, and huddled close under the thin and scratchy blanket. They shared the pillow, Charles actually cushioned quite comfortably on Erik's muscled arm, but once they got settled all they did was stare at each other, soft smiles on both their lips. Charles felt like a lovestruck teenager, heart pounding out of his chest every time he looked at Erik. 

 

_ It's too soon.  _ He chided himself.  _ You're falling too soon. Slow down.  _ There was no slowing down, however, because his heart had glued its foot on the gas and now it was stuck, sending them reeling towards Erik at top speed. He only hoped that Erik wouldn't jump out of the way at the last second before collision. 

 

Little did Charles know, Erik was standing still, waiting patiently for the bus his heart hijacked to come barrelling down the street and flatten Erik. This was one bus Erik didn't want to be right in schedule, he wanted it to half an hour early, because he's been waiting for it for what felt like his whole life. 

 

Neither had fallen asleep yet, or even seemed tired anymore. The staring contest still going strong, until Erik decided he wanted to throw the game and lose. 

 

“Would you mind terribly, Charles, if I kissed you right now?” 

 

Charles felt his heart jump. Maybe it would get to run Erik over after all. 

 

“I would mind terribly if you didn't, actually, now that you mention it.” 

 

Erik smiled softly, then closed the scanty inches between them, pressing his lips to Charles’. Erik's lips were slightly chapped, and he tasted faintly like sticky maple syrup. It didn't get terribly heated, more sweet than anything. A loving statement saying  _ this is real _ ,  _ this is what we are, this is happening.  _

 

Charles didn't realize that he was holding his breath until after they broke apart. He sighed almost swooningly, and blushed into the crook of Erik's arm, biting his lip to try and stifle a near face splitting smile. He's never been this happy in his whole life, not even when he got accepted to teach at Columbia. 

 

“Oh, schatz, don't be shy now.” Erik cooed, pressing his lips to all the skin he could reached. Charles’ temple, his forehead, his cheekbone. 

 

“I'm not shy, darling. I'm just...happy.” He smiled up at Erik this time, letting him see all of him. Charles’ sky blue eyes sparkled, and Erik's heart clutched its own chest. He was so  _ beautiful _ it nearly hurt to look at him. Erik didn't deserve him, not at all, but he was honored to be by his side as long as Charles would have him. 

 

Content in each other, and floating weightless on genuine happiness, they drifted off to sleep, wrapped safely in each other's arms where they belonged. 

  
There's nowhere else they'd rather be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments mean a lot! :)


	13. Naps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles nap together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the moment you've all been waiting for! *drum roll*
> 
> Smut! Good ol' fashioned smut!  
> Enjoy and thank you for the comments! :)
> 
> You're all too kind! <3

Charles woke up from their little nap first.

 

Stretching away from his sweaty spot in Erik's arms, he got up to use the bathroom and brush his teeth. When he got back, Erik was sitting up in the bed, adorably blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Charles sweetly smiled at his, crawling back into the bed to give him a “good morning” kiss, which Erik gladly returned.

 

This time, the kiss _did_ get a bit heated when Charles went to pull away and Erik slid his hand up to the back of his neck and kept him in place, running his tongue over Charles’ plump bottom lip, asking for clearance. Charles eagerly obliged, licking into Erik's mouth with hunger, tongues battling a fight for dominance that Erik won when he bit Charles’ lower lip, tearing a surprised moan out of the man.

 

Erik put a hand on Charles’ chest, gently pushing him to lay down on the bed, then crawled on top of him, careful to keep his full weight off of the smaller man so as not to crush him. Charles was having none of it though, wanting to feel _all_ of Erik, so he grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and pulled him down, groaning into Erik's mouth when his body pressed him into the mattress.

 

With another nip to Charles’ kiss swollen mouth, Erik pulled away and trailed biting kisses down his gorgeously pale throat, moving his loose shirt aside to suck bruising marks into his deadly sharp collarbones. Charles was panting, thrusting his hips up into Erik's and fisting a hand in his short auburn locks. He couldn't believe that they were doing this now, that they had made it here already, after only having two _real_ dates. Not that he was complaining though, far from it. He'd most likely _die_ if Erik stopped now.

 

Thankfully, Erik seemed to think that too. He growled, _actually growled_ , when he ran out of skin to suck on due to Charles’ shirt being in the way. He sat up between the flushed man's legs and tugged him up so he could pull off his shirt, and attack a pretty pink nipple with his mouth, causing a cry to be ripped out of Charles’ throat.

 

Nails digged into Erik's still covered shoulders, but it only spurred him on more. He trailed his hand down the freckled chest, teeth still scraping against a sensitive nipple, to cup Charles’ leaking cock through his thin briefs.

 

Charles’ nearly came then, but held on by the grace of something.

 

He whined and thrust up into Erik's large hand, desperate for him to do something more.

 

“Erik, darling, _please._ You're such a tease, please _do something.”_ Charles panted out, gripping Erik's shoulders tighter and attempting to fuck the hand still palming his aching cock.

 

“Like what, Charles?” Erik purred, pulling off of the reddened nipple to abused the other one.

 

“ _Anything,_ fuck, Erik please!” Charles couldn't take the torture anymore. If he didn't come soon, he was going to keel over.

 

“So needy, Charles.” Erik chided, but nipped down Charles’ body anyways, happy to give him what he was so desperately begging for. With one last nip to an even sharper hipbone, Erik slowly pulled down Charles’ briefs, hard cock bobbing free and drooling, making Erik's mouth water.

 

He wrapped a hand around the thick girth, hearing the man's breath catch, and slowly began to pump Charles’ cock. He listened closely to every noise that Charles made, paying special attention to what made him stutter out the delicious whimpers that had Erik grinding into the bed below.

 

When he finally, _finally_ wrapped his lips around the leaking head, tonguing the slit and tasting Charles for the first time, the man keened loudly into the still room, fighting every urge he had telling him to thrust into that hot, wet, mouth.

 

Charles doesn't think he's ever been so desperate in his _life_.

 

Erik slid down the rest of the way until the head hit the back of his throat and his nose pressed against the curls at the base of Charles’ cock. He swallowed once, twice, and then Charles was crying out and coming hard, splashing hot on his tongue and down his throat.

 

He continued to gently suck on softening member, until Charles was whimpering and pulling at his hair, oversensitive with the stimulation.

 

“Erik, please, let me touch you. Let me...” Charles panted, leaning up to tease at the waistband of Erik's pants.

 

Erik stopped him with a gentle hand around his wrist, however, face turning a lovely shade of red.

 

“There's no need to, schatz. I, uh...already took care of it...so to speak.” He said, glancing down sheepishly at the wet spot in the front of his boxers from when he had rubbed himself off on the bed at Charles’ desperately whorish display.

 

“Oh...well good then.” Charles chirped, looking smug and delicious fucked out. He smiled softly at Erik, and leaned him to kiss him sweetly.

 

“That was amazing, darling, and very unexpected. I had kind of figured that you'd want to wait for something like that.” Charles weaved his fingers through Erik's and tugged him back down onto the bed to lay beside him.

 

“I thought so too, honestly, but then I saw you coming out of the bathroom and you kissed me so softly and sweetly and I just wasn't able to wait anymore.” Erik frowned, then. “We didn't have to, Charles, if you didn't want to…” Now he looked terrified, think that maybe he had forced Charles into something that the younger man didn't want to do.

 

Charles has been through _so much_ lately. He's been tired and upset and probably definitely _not_ thinking about having sex. How could Erik have even initiated anything _remotely_ sexual at time like this?  

 

Charles seemed to know where Erik's thoughts were headed. “Erik, darling, please don't think like that. You didn't _force_ me into anything. I most definitely wanted it, was begging for it in fact. I was just worried that you would've thought it was too soon and would possibly up... regretting it.” He chewed on his still kiss swollen lip nervously.

 

He really hoped that Erik _didn't_ regret what they had done, unsure of what he'd do if he did.

 

Erik smiled, relieved, and put Charles’ fears to rest like he did for Erik.

 

“Of course I don't regret it, Charles. I've been wanting to touch you ever since that day at your friend's.” He pressed a kiss to Charles’ forehead.

 

“Good, I'm glad.” Charles sighed, content to just lay exactly as they were for the rest of his life, and then his phone rang. He groaned, over dramatically, making Erik chuckle before shuffling himself out of the bed to grab his phone off the dresser, glancing down at the caller ID.

 

It was Raven.

 

“Holy shit, Charles, are you okay?! I heard what happened from someone at work, what the _shit_ , Charles! Why didn't you tell me that something like that happened?!” She screeched into the phone.

 

Charles winced, partly from his now shattered eardrum, and partly because she was right. He should've told her that he and Erik came home from a lovely morning together to find a box containing a fucking _human heart_ sitting outside his door, but exactly _how_ do you go about telling someone something like that?

 

You don't really, so Charles didn't, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

 

“I'm so sorry Raven. I meant to, I swear, it was just that after all the questioning and all the people running in and out of the place, I was too beat to do much else but sleep after they had left. I wasn't intentionally keeping anything from you, darling, honest.” Well damn, now he felt bad.

 

There was a heavy annoyed sigh from the other end.

 

“It's all right. I understand, it must've been very...traumatic...seeing something like that. I'm sorry that you even had to in the first place. I swear if I ever meet the bastard that's doing this to you, I'm gonna fucking kill him.” She sounded very serious, and very upset.

 

“You'd get no objections from me.” Charles said, flatly huffing out a laugh.

 

 _“Or from me!”_ Charles heard a voice yell in the background. It sounded like Logan.

 

“We're all in agreement then, good.” Raven said, satisfied. “I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you were doing...as good as you could be.”

 

“I'm fine actually, all things considered. Erik's barely left my side since he got here.” Charles looked over his shoulder at the man in question, tossing a small smile his way. Erik winked back, still laying in his stomach in the spot where he was left.

 

“Ohh did you guys have sex?” Raven asked, excitedly.

 

“That is none of your business, young lady!” Charles said incredulously. Why was she always so interested in his sex life? He didn't understand.

 

“I'll take that as a yes!” She laughed into the phone. “I guess I'll let you get back to it then, I would hate to interrupt the first dicking you've gotten in long time.”

 

 _“Raven!”_ Charles couldn't catch a break, could he?

 

There was another laugh from the woman and then the line went dead. Charles sighed, fond and exasperated, shaking his head on the way back to the bed. He bent down to give Erik another kiss, then made his way to the kitchen.

 

“Would you like some tea, Erik?” Charles called as he got the kettle ready.

 

“I wouldn't mind some, thank you.” The voice almost directly behind him startled Charles, nearly making him drop the kettle. He hadn't heard Erik follow him to the kitchen. Damn carpeted floors.

 

“Oh I'm sorry schatz, I didn't mean to scare you.” Erik murmured, slipping his arms around Charles’ waist. “You didn't, really, I've just been so on edge lately.” Charles replied, managing to set the kettle on the stove and turn it on despite the octopus currently clinging to his back.

 

Erik didn't say anything, choosing instead to kiss Charles hair and squeeze him harder.

 

Charles understood what he meant.

 

“How about we watch a movie later tonight? My first class isn't until ten tomorrow, we could stay up a little later.” Charles’ suggested, eager to get his mind off of everything. He also just wanted an excuse to cuddle Erik.

 

“That sounds lovely, schatz, but do you mind if we stop by my place so I could grab a change of clothes? I could really use a shower after earlier.”

 

Charles’ eyes widened. He had totally forgotten about Erik's come stained boxers.

 

“Yes, of course, Erik! I'm so sorry, that can't be comfortable, I can't believe I let that slip my mind!” He turned around in Erik's arms so he could see the man's handsome face. “I suppose I need to go shopping for a few things anyways.” He looked solemnly around the flat, glancing at his destroyed furniture and thinking of his poor wardrobe.

 

“I would be glad to take you shopping for whatever you need, Charles.” Erik said sincerely, looking into Charles’ sky filled eyes. He wanted to make Charles feel safe and at home again, no matter what the cost.

 

“Thank you, darling, but I'm more than able to afford everything on my own. You know that. There's no need to waste any if your hard-earned money on little old me.” Charles protested, but Erik simply rolled his eyes fondly.

 

“I _do_ know that, schatz, but I _want_ to do this for you. I know buying furniture and clothes might not mean much, but I want to try and help you get your life back, as much as I can anyways. If you'll let me.” Erik seemed so earnest about the whole thing, and Charles couldn't resist those eyes.

 

“Okay, darling. Whatever you want. Thank you.” He kissed Erik tenderly on the lips, putting as much feeling as he could into it, but pulled back before it could get too carried away.

  
They had _a lot_ of shopping to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too good at the whole, "sex scene" thing yet, which is why it was so short.
> 
> I hope I did okay and that you guys like it!


	14. Shirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles owned more t-shirts now than he ever has in his whole life, and Erik wanted to cook dinner for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure hope you guys don't hate me after this.

Shopping took away the rest of the daylight, and instead handed Charles and Erik the cold, crisp night to take home with them along with their many purchases.

 

Thankfully, Charles’ door was barren of any cards or boxes when they got back to the flat. He was relieved, but still wary.

 

It wasn't that he didn't trust the officers posted across the street and in the alley way to protect him if something _were_ to happen, but still, anything was possible in the great city of New York.

 

They shuffled inside with many bags and boxes alike, setting them down wherever they happened to almost fall from their hands at.

 

Charles had come home with even _more_ clothes than he had in the first place, due to _someone's_ (Erik's) insistence that he needed to change his closet contents up a bit.

 

“Don't get me wrong, schatz, I absolutely _adore_ all your adorable cardigans and sweaters, but there are hundreds of other kinds of tops you could choose from.” Erik had said, leading Charles into the men's section of yet _another_ department store. “You don't have to get anything crazy, I promise, just pick out a few t-shirts and I'll be happy.”

 

Charles had sighed in exasperated defeat and decided to humor the man.  

 

Which is why Charles now owns 15 brand new t-shirts in various colors, patterns, and prints. His favorites were a light blue v-neck that Erik said did wonders for his eyes, and a violet crew neck that had a single pocket on the breast. He also got a few more sweaters of course, with many affectionate eye rolls from Erik.

 

Along with his many t-shirts, Erik also suggested that Charles get more comfortable pants, like jeans or even a couple pairs of sweatpants to wear around the house. He did so without much fuss this time, actually liking the way he looked in the various pairs of jeans he tried on.

 

Sweats were sweats.

 

Now, Charles was in his bedroom, putting up his new clothes and stuffing all the old and unsalvageable stuff into a trash bag. He was sad to see all his favorite sweaters go, but considering they all had large tears in them and were now unwearable, he was very glad for his replacements.

 

He would have to make sure to thank Erik _very_ thoroughly later.

 

Erik could be heard in the kitchen putting up Charles’ brand new dinnerware. He had really only needed more plates, bowls, and cups to replace the ones that had been shattered on the floor by the intruder, but had fell in love with a _darling_ floral tea set, so they had gotten that too. After they had gotten the clothes and dishes, they hit an electronic store to get a new TV for the living room (this one bigger than the last), and one for Charles’ bedroom while they were at it.

The only thing that didn't get taken of was the furniture, but since it was all still functioning the same despite bleeding it's stuffing all over the place, Charles decided that it could wait until tomorrow. They'd been running all over the place for nearly four hours, and he had been ready to call it a day since walking into the first department store to find clothes.

 

Charles really hated shopping for anything that wasn't food or literature related.

 

After finishing up in his bedroom, Charles grabbed the trash sack full of ruined clothes and headed into the kitchen to dump it on the table and help Erik if he still needed it, but found that the man was now in the living room setting up the new TV. It was a flat screen, like the last, except about 20 inches bigger. It was _huge,_ taking up the majority of the space on the entertainment center. Charles would be lying if he said he wasn't a little bit excited to watch his favorite shows on the thing.

 

“Do you need any help?” Charles asked, coming over to stand by Erik without getting in the way.

 

“Oh no, schatz, I'm almost done. It's not like it's rocket science.” He replied with a chuckle.

 

“Indeed it is not, darling.” Said Charles, grabbing the remote from the floor and sitting down on the couch with it to look at all the buttons. In addition to the new TV, Erik insisted Charles get actual cable so he'd have more to watch in his down time. Charles didn't really watch a _whole_ lot of television, he preferred to read or wonder around the city window shopping when he _did_ have the time to spare. Mostly, he did his own teacher homework and made tea and food.

Not a very exciting life, really, but he didn't mind.

 

He preferred it that way, actually, but apparently the universe got sick of watching Charles be boring and decided to shake things up a bit. The Erik addition to his life was the most amazing thing ever, but the other things...not so much.

 

“All done.” Erik said from behind the TV before emerging and coming over to sit next to Charles. “Would you like to do the honors?” He asked, arching an amused eyebrow at his lover and nodding towards the remote in his hand.

 

“Yes I would.” Charles chirped, pressing the power button and watching with anticipation as the TV lit up with life. The picture was amazing, and the sound was already too loud at only 20.

 

This was going to be a _blast._

 

It took them almost an hour to settle on a channel to watch, and by the time they found one decent enough for the both of them, Charles’ stomach rumbled with frightening hunger. Erik laughed next to him. “Are you ready for dinner, schatz?”

 

Charles gave him an incredulous look. “Are you not? We were running around for hours and every other store we went to had at least three restaurants crammed next to it.” His stomach rumbled once more in sympathy and Charles patted it comfortingly.

 

“Did you have anything in particular in mind?” Charles shook his head. “Good, because I want to cook for you tonight.” With that he got up from the couch, and grabbed his wallet from the little table by the door.

“Wait, where are going?” Charles asked, confused. The kitchen was in here with him after all.

 

“I'm going to the grocery store really quick to pick up what I need, and you're going to stay here and rest that pretty little head of yours.” He smiled, and came back to the couch to lean over and press a kiss to Charles’ hair. “I have my phone on me, please call me if you need to. I shouldn't be too long.”

 

“Oh, well, okay. Be careful, please. Don’t dally.” Charles said, a little nervous about being left alone, but the grocery store was just a few blocks away. He would be fine. Erik pressed another kiss to the chocolate curls and then headed out the door with a small wave. Charles’ settled back into the couch and tried to get too worked up.

 

He focused on the show that was playing in front of him, some sort of overdramatized true crime documentary about an infamous serial killer.

 

Charles was fine for the first few minutes, right up until he heard a noise coming from the direction of his bedroom.

 

The blood in his veins stopped pumping when his heart did, and icy fear stuck Charles in the stomach. He waited a few more seconds before he decided to call Erik, listening closely for any more noise. He didn’t want to call Erik and have the man race down here just to fight off a bird that was having a hard time seeing straight. Charles didn’t want to seem paranoid to the man, afraid he might get annoyed of him constantly looking over his shoulder or get sick of him always depending on Erik to protect him. He was just given the man, he didn’t want to lose him so soon.

 

Just when Charles was about to write the noise off as a poor blind bird, he heard it again. Louder this time, and terrifyingly unmistakable.

 

Someone was trying to break into the flat.

 

Charles didn’t know what to do, frozen with fear where he sat on the couch. He couldn’t hide anywhere fast enough. The bathroom was the only other room in the house that had a locking door, and it was right next to his bedroom. Charles considered running out the front door, but thought against it when he realized he didn’t know what was out there exactly. What if the trespasser wasn’t alone? What if there were more of them, waiting just outside the door for Charles to come running out? Erik. He needed to get a hold of Erik, but calling him would most likely alert the intruder to his presence, so he would have to text him. Quickly.

 

Charles grabbed his phone off the table in front of him and typed out a message to Erik with shaking hands.

 

**_U need to cme home riht now_ **

 

**_Someones here_ **

 

This wasn’t going to be fast enough. Erik was shopping and probably wasn’t going to be paying much attention to his phone. _What do I do? What do I do?_ Charles thought frantically. He needed to think of something. He was running out of time. He needed to call the poli-

****

_The police. There were officers watching the building. Where were they?_

****

One was supposed to be sitting in the alleyway that Charles’ bedroom window overlooked. Wouldn’t they see the person trying to break in? _What the fuck was going on? Where were the police officers?_

****

A dull thud from the bedroom, and then there was a shadow in the hallway.  

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.


	15. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles didn't wait to see who it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short filler chapter that is kinda sweet.

Charles didn't wait to see who it was. 

 

Anyone that was supposed to be in the flat right now wouldn't be emerging from the bedroom. 

 

Charles tore himself from the couch and bolted to the door, ripping it open and sprinting down the hallway towards the stairs. He didn't look behind him as he ran, bursting out into the alleyway and frantically searching for the cop car that was supposed be there. 

 

Only except there wasn't one. 

 

He didn't dwell on it for too long, not wanting to give the creep the opportunity to catch up to him, Charles took off running in the direction of the closest grocery store. The one Erik would be at. 

 

The thought of Erik brought with it the memory of his last frantic texts, and that was when Charles realised that he still had his phone, clutched tightly in his trembling hand. He needed to call somebody. Anybody. Erik. The police.  _ Erik _ . He needed to call Erik before he saw Charles’ texts and rushed to the flat, where The Heartbreaker  _ himself  _ could be lying in wait. Once he was far away enough from his flat and surrounded by enough curiously worried stares to feel somewhat safe, Charles stopped running and slumped against the brick wall of a dimly lit cafe. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Erik’s number, and was just about to press ‘call’ when he heard a blessedly familiar voice. 

 

_ “Charles? _ Charles,  _ oh mein gott,  _ I got your texts and I got out of the store as fast as I could. Are you okay? Did you see who it was? Did they see where you went?” Erik questioned frantically, grabbing him by the face and making Charles look up at him. Charles’ electric eyes were filled with frightened tears, and he couldn’t stop a sob from bursting out of his throat and onto Erik’s black leather jacket. He collapsed against his chest, body shaking with the force of his cries. He couldn’t believe what his life had become these past few weeks. He just wanted to teach his classes and drink his tea and read his books. What had he  _ done  _ to warrant any of this?

 

“Shush now, schatz, it’s all right. I’m here with you now. It’s going to be okay.” Erik murmured to Charles’ curls, rocking him gently in his arms. He could see people giving them questioning or worried glances as they passed by, but no one stopped to ask if they were okay. Erik preferred it that way.

 

After a few moments of whispering comfort to the shorter man, Erik decided that it was time that they called the police and figure out if it was safe to go back to Charles’ flat. He slowly unwound his arms from around Charles, gently cupping his face to wipe away the few remaining tears on his cheeks, tinted red from the cold. “We should probably call the police, now, Charles.” Erik said gently. 

“Speaking of police, wasn’t there supposed to be patrol cars parked outside the flat?” He remembered the conversation between Charles and Detective MacTaggert, where she had said she would be posting a couple officers around the flat to watch over Charles and his home. Erik also remembered  _ seeing  _ a cop car parked on the other side of the street just yesterday. So where were they? Why weren’t they there now, right when they were needed the most?

Charles agreed with Erik, pulling away from the man completely to hand him his phone, not trusting his voice just yet. Erik understood, and called 911, describing the situation to the operator as Charles whispered it to him. He was told an officer would be at the flat within 20 minutes, and not to go in until said officer had checked the place thoroughly. The operator asked if anyone was harmed or needed any medical assistance. Erik looked at Charles, and Charles shook his head. After confirming that they were both unharmed, Erik thanked the operator and ended the call. 

There was no way they were going back to the flat just yet. 

Not that Erik thought he couldn’t defend Charles if he needed to, but he would really rather not if he could help it. It wouldn’t do well to end up in the hospital, or dead, because he wanted to impress his adorable professor. They would wander around the sparkling city instead, and Erik would do his best to take Charles’ mind off of the events of the past half hour. Erik threw his arm around Charles’ shoulders, gently steering him in the direction he had just come from. 

“I should’ve asked you this earlier, schatz, but would you like to go grocery shopping for your surprise dinner with me?” Erik asked, trying to keep the mood as light as possible. 

Charles laughed, surprisingly genuine considering. 

“Yes, Erik, I would  _ love  _ to go grocery shopping with you.” He smiled weakly up at Erik, eyes still wet with tears, an arm wrapped tightly around Erik’s small waist. 

The grocery store wasn’t any more warm than the streets outside, a sharp chill running through Charles as they stepped inside. Erik led them through the aisles, seemingly having a destination in time. Charles found out where they were going once they arrived at an abandoned cart full of various vegetables, spices, bags of pasta, meats, bottles of various drinks, and poultry. It looked more like Erik had just decided to grocery shop for everything Charles’ kitchen was lacking instead of just the meal he had planned on making. Charles’ heart stuttered at the thought. 

 

“It looks like it’s been picked out of a bit, nothing I can’t find again, though. I’m actually kind of surprised it’s still here. I thought someone would've come and put everything back where it belongs after finding the cart abandoned.” Erik’s smile was satisfactorily, until he noticed Charles looking into the cart with a soft knowing smile, then it turned sheepish.  

“I noticed that you were...running kind of low on a few things…so I took it upon myself to restock your kitchen. So to speak. If that’s all right. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries.” He look unsure of himself now, like he thought that he had crossed a line in their relationship. Is that what they had? Were they actually in a  _ relationship _ now? That’s how it seemed, but it’d only been a few days since they first met. Perhaps they were moving too fast, but neither had any intentions of slowing down now. The bus that Charles’ heart commandeered was going too fast, and Erik wasn’t going to be able to dive out of the way in time.

They were both fine with that. 

Charles smiled so brightly at Erik that he thought he was going to go blind. 

“It’s fine, darling, really. Thank you, for thinking of me and my empty kitchen, and for being by my side through...all this. I know you didn’t sign up for a relationship with a serial killer’s obsession. I’m sorry about all this, Erik...really I am.” Charles looked down at his feet, then, sun sprinkled smile replaced with a deep frown. Erik stepped forward and pressed his lips to Charles’ forehead. 

“None of this is your fault, schatz, and it’s an honor to be by your side in this, and it’s where I shall stay until you tell me to leave.” 

“Then you’re going to be stuck with me for a  _ very  _ long time, Erik.”

Charles looped his arm with Erik’s, and the dazzling smile returned. 

“Lead the way, darling.”

Erik’s grinned contained too many teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. This was Charles’ favorite smile. Erik led them in a circle around the store, grabbing the things that had been taken from the cart when he had left it to come to Charles’ rescue, and whatever else Charles needed or thought looked good, including raspberry frozen yogurt and kettle cooked popcorn. They checked out, with Charles nearly having a heart attack on the amount of money Erik spent to replenish his cabinets and freezer. When they finally left the store, grocery bags in hand, Charles was dreading the walk home, right up until Erik popped the trunk of a black Mercedes-Benz. 

Of course Erik had driven here. 

Charles had seen the vehicle parked outside the flat, but never really thought anything of it. Cars were parked on the streets outside all the time, and while he knew that Erik owned a Mercedes, he’d never bothered to put two and two together. Blame it on the ongoing distractions Charles has had lately. They loaded up and the groceries, then got in the car with Erik opening the door for Charles like the gentleman he was, causing him to blush and roll his eyes. 

When they got back to the flat, a police car was waiting for them outside, an officer sitting in the front seat with the door propped open. Erik pulled up next him, and put the car in park, pulling the keys out of the ignition. They got out and walked over to the officer, who had gotten out of the car when she saw them pull up. She introduced herself as Officer Grey and got straight to the point. 

“I didn’t find anyone inside when I went in, but I did find the window open in the master bedroom. Other than that, there were no other signs of a break in. They didn’t take anything and nothing was left behind.” 

Charles simply nodded to that, his eyes wide and full of something unreadable to Erik. 

“Can you tell me what happened before you left the apartment?” 

Charles told her what he told Erik to tell the 911 dispatcher. 

“I was sitting on my couch watching tv after my boyfriend had left to get a few things for dinner. I heard a noise come from the bedroom, but just assumed it to be an animal or something like that, until I heard it again but louder this time. Then it kind of sounded like something landed on the floor, and that’s when I texted Erik here to let him know that I thought someone was in the flat.” 

He took a deep, calming breath before continuing. 

“And then I saw this person shaped shadow creeping into the hallway and I bolted out the door. I didn’t wait around to see who it was.” He wrapped his arms tightly around his small body, as if just the memory made him feel like he was being watched. 

Officer Grey nodded, her face grave and serious, as she jotted the details down in a tiny black notepad. 

“Considering that this isn’t the first time this has happened to you, I’m going to hang out for a few hours and keep an eye on things. It seems like your intruder arrived just in time for a shift change, using the few scant minutes that this place went unwatched to his advantage. I’ll be here until the next officer arrives. You try and have a good night. Come and get me if you notice anything strange.”

 

With that, she nodded respectfully to them and let them go about their business unloading the car.

 

They managed to do it all in one trip. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how cop related things work, sorry bout it.


	16. Baths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik was a spectacular cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs manically*

Erik was a _spectacular_ cook.

 

Charles wasn’t surprised, really. Erik seemed like the type of person that could do anything in the world once and be a professional at it for the rest of his life. So why wouldn’t he be the best cook Charles has ever had the privilege of knowing? The kitchen smelled _amazing_ , thick with the scent of various spices and sizzling meat. They were having the classic steak and potatoes meal, with homemade sour cream and chives mashed potatoes, tender sirloin steak marinated in a mixture of several spices and sauces, and sauteed mixed vegetables.

 

Charles hasn’t had a home cooked meal like this in _ages._

 

He isn’t much of a cook himself, choosing instead to stick with the simple dishes like spaghetti and frozen lasagna. He also didn’t really cook much, either, considering he lives alone and is usually content with takeout from miscellaneous restaurants around town. Cooking by himself for his self made Charles kind of sad, because it would remind him just how alone he really was. Of course there was the occasional night when Raven and even Logan would come over for dinner, and Charles would break out the cookbooks he bought on a whim and do his best to make what the book described. This usually ended in something being horribly burned or undercooked, with Raven scraping out the contents of the pan into the trash and Logan getting on the phone with a nearby pizza place while Charles apologized profusely through his mortification.

 

Needless to say, Charles rarely cooks, and the meal that Erik prepared for them was going to hit him in all the right spots. It meant a lot, really, that his boyfriend-is that what they were now-would go out of his way to not only purchase the ingredients, but also take the time to make him a home cooked meal.

 

Someone was getting head for sure, tonight.

 

Crude thoughts simmering in the back of his mind, Charles smiled gratefully at Erik as the man sat a new plate full of mouth watering food in front of him, steaming wafting from the dish and assaulting Charles’ nose. If words couldn’t describe just how delicious everything _looked_ , then there was no way they were going to be able to describe how everything _tasted_.

 

The first tongue burning bite Charles took had him making some very dinner inappropriate noises, eyes closing in bliss as spicy flavor burst over his tongue and swam in his taste-buds. His face flushed in embarrassment at his display, but Erik only laughed from his spot sitting in front of him.

 

“I’m glad you like it, schatz. I was actually a bit worried you wouldn’t for a minute there.” Erik smirked as he brought his own fork up to his mouth to taste a bite of potatoes. “It’s not the best I’ve done, but certainly not the worst.” He said with a shrug once he finished chewing.

 

“Are you _kidding_ me? Erik, this is _amazing_! This has to be the best meal I’ve had in my whole life, bar none.” Charles shook his head at Erik’s doubtful expression. “No really, darling, I mean it. This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. There’s no way I’m going back to Chinese takeout and cold pizza after this.” He took a moment to shovel more of the amazing food into his face.

 

“You’re stuck with me forever now. You know that right?” He looked up at Erik, eyebrows raised.

 

“I never planned on going anywhere in the first place, Charles.” The smile Erik gave him was soft, his light eyes overflowing with affection. Charles blushed, and looked down at his plate, stabbing bits of carrot and broccoli with his fork.

 

It was a miracle Charles made it through his steak, his second one that is, stomach nearly full to bursting once he finished off his _second_ helping of potatoes and vegetables. He was determined to clean his plate though, because Erik had made it for him, and it was really _really_ good. He did in the end, tossing his fork onto his empty plate with a sense of great accomplishment, but said victory came at a very hefty price.

 

The price of one of the worst stomach aches Charles has ever had.

 

Maybe someone wasn’t getting head after all.

 

Charles groaned in pain as he made his way to the couch, flopping down on it and curling up in a ball on his side, his hand cradling a very pissed off stomach. He didn’t think he ate that much, but perhaps two servings of everything _was_ a bit much. This wasn’t his fault, though, it was Erik’s. Why did he make so much if Charles wasn’t supposed to eat it all? It just didn’t make any sense.

 

Charles opened his eyes, not realizing that he had closed them, when he felt a hand stroke through his hair.

 

“I told you to slow down before you hurt your tummy, didn’t I?” Erik’s voice was soft and sympathetic.

 

“Shut up. It’s your fault for being such an amazing cook.” Charles grumbled pitifully, stomach cramping in disgruntled agreement. At this point, he was a little worried he might lose the perfect dinner he just had.

 

“Is it bad?”

 

“Kind of. I feel like I’m going to vomit.”

 

Erik hummed, and then the hand in his hair disappeared, causing Charles to whine at it’s loss.

 

“You hush now, schatz, I’ll be just a moment.”  

 

Charles could hear Erik’s footsteps retreating, and he wondered what was so pressing that Erik had to abandon Charles and leave his hair petless. Then he heard water running from the bathroom, and Charles’ pouting turned into confusion. Did Erik really just leave Charles on the couch, huddled in pain, to take a _shower?_ What a meanie.

 

The carpet softened footsteps came back, and the hand returned to it’s rightful place in Charles’ soft curls. He was ready to fall asleep just like this, curled up on the couch with a cramping tummy and a large hand petting his hair. Then Erik opened his mouth, and Charles swore he heard angels sing.

 

“Come on, liebling, I’ve run you a hot bath for your poor stomach.”

 

Charles cracked an eye open.

 

“I don’t want to move...will you carry me?” He asked hopefully. Moving on his own sounded like a bad idea. Erik chuckled, breath ghosting over Charles’ face, and lips were pressed into his hair. “Of course I will.” With that, Erik slid his arms under Charles’ legs and back, then lifted him up as if he weighed nothing, cradling him against his strong chest.

 

Charles was gently sat down on the lid of the toilet, while Erik went about turning off the water and setting out a towel for later use. His stomach was twinging in pain, and Charles couldn’t wait to sink down into that steaming bath. It was going to feel amazing. He stood up slowly to get undressed, but Erik stopped him before he could. He had Charles lift his arms so he could pull his sweater off over his head, then he unbuckled his belt and pulled it through its loops before undoing Charles jeans and pulling them down and off with his boxers, socks being the last to join the pile on the floor.

 

The whole thing was completely innocent, and Charles couldn’t help but preen on the inside at being so thoroughly taken care of like this.

 

No one’s ever gone through so much trouble to make sure he was comfortable before, and Charles thought his heart might burst out of his chest a splatter onto the floor between them.

 

Once he was completely nude, Erik kissed him gently on the lips, mouth soft and dry against his, before he assisted Charles into the bath. The water was hot, but not unbearably so. It was perfect actually. The whole night was turning out perfect, despite the earlier hiccup. He was incredibly lucky to have Erik in his life.

Charles sank down into his bath with a pleased groan, his stiff muscles relaxing and his grumpy stomach settling down. Erik stayed long enough to make sure he was okay, and then took his leave after telling him that he was going to clean up and maybe do some channel surfing, and to call out if Charles needed anything. He smiled gratefully at Erik, and nodded his promise. The door clicked shut softly and then Charles was left alone with the steam.

 

He closed his eyes and melted into the water, letting his mind drift to things that had nothing to do with the current goings on in his life. He didn’t think about the murders, or his stalker. He didn’t think about anything, really. Just random little blimps of thought that floated away before he could catch them, set to the sounds of clattering dishes and running water coming from the kitchen. It was very calming, and just what he needed.

 

After nearly half an hour of fighting sleep, Charles realized that he couldn’t hear Erik moving about anymore.

 

He couldn’t hear the tv, either. It was very, _very_ quiet.

 

Charles decided not to panic, figuring that Erik had already done all the dishes and just had the tv on low. It didn’t hurt to check though.

 

“Erik?” Charles called loudly, voice bouncing off the tiled walls. There was no answer, thinking Erik didn’t hear him, he tried again, even louder this time.

 

“Erik!” He practically screamed this time. Still no answer.

 

Now Charles was worried.

 

The bathroom was only a few paces away from the living room, the walls weren’t very thick and there was only one door between the two rooms, so there was no way Erik wasn’t hearing him.

 

Knowing it probably wasn’t the best idea, but not knowing what else to do, Charles got out of the bath, not bothering to let the water out. He wrapped the towel Erik sat out for him on the counter around his waist and slowly twisted the door knob. All the lights in the apartment, save for the bathroom, were off.

 

_He probably just went to lay down then,_ Charles thought, nerves sizzling down and slight relief flooding his system. He would just grab his clothes from the bathroom to throw in the hamper in his bedroom and then go to bed himself, then. Charles turned and grabbed his clothes from off the floor, letting the water out of the tub and flicking the light off before heading to the bedroom.

  


He only made it three steps before a gloved hand was clamping down hard over his mouth.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned, guys.


	17. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles felt his stomach drop, dread filling the space where it used to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about to go down.

Charles felt his stomach drop, dread filling the space where it used to be. 

 

He grabbed the hand that was pressing bruises into his face and attempted to pry it off, but to no avail, so he started thrashing about violently instead. If someone was going to forcibly take him out of his own damn home, he wasn’t going to make it easy for them. 

 

The assailant grunted with the force of trying to keep Charles still but the man was strong and apparently didn’t come in empty handed, because there was suddenly something sharp and cold pressing against throat, threatening to slice him open if he didn’t stop struggling like he was. Charles stilled instantly, having no way of knowing if the person was bluffing or not. 

 

Charles wondered with a heavy heart if they had already got to Erik. 

 

Tears filled his eyes at the thought. It was too dark in the flat to see anything, so Charles had no way of knowing if Erik’s possibly lifeless body was lying on the floor somewhere. Charles went limp, and sobbed into the hand on his mouth as he was shuffled forwards towards the bedroom door. He was confused for a moment, before he realized they were most likely going to be leaving the same way the man came in. 

 

Through the bedroom window. 

 

Distantly, Charles thought about the fate of Officer Grey, who was supposedly sitting outside in her patrol car. Maybe Charles could make enough noise once they got outside to alert the woman, if she was still alive that is. Once they got into the bedroom, the man threw him down onto the carpeted floor, and Charles really started to panic. He was probably about to taken against his will and there was nothing he could do about it. The whole thing felt like a nightmare, and Charles found himself praying that he would wake up in minute now. The moonlight pouring in through the window gave him just enough light to see the man-who was dressed head to toe in black, a white expressionless mask concealing his face-reach into his hoodie pocket and pull something out. 

 

A thick roll of duct tape.

 

As a last ditch effort for freedom, Charles lifted himself off the floor and ran past the man, only to be grabbed around the waist before he even reached the bedroom door and thrown viciously back onto the carpet, his skin stinging with the rough texture of the floor. His towel was still thankfully in place, but he desperately wished he would have dressed before leaving the bathroom. Being abducted while completely naked was such a cliche, and Charles couldn’t believe it was happening to him. 

 

The intruder leaned forward, the rip of the duct tape loud and final in the silent room. 

 

He wrapped the silver adhesive tightly around Charles wrists, binding them together, the stick pulling painfully at the hairs on his arms. He did the same to Charles’ legs, and before he could open his mouth to beg the man to just please let him go, the tape was wrapped around his head, pulling his hair out and silencing him indefinitely. Charles sobbed around his gag, tears soaking his face and the edges of the tape pressing into his face. The man chuckled darkly, and let his free hand roam down Charles’ chest, fingers sickeningly teasing at the knot holding his towel snugly around his waist. 

 

The intruder picked Charles up, throwing the bound, gagged, and sobbing man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then headed over to the already opened window. Charles wondered what was waiting for him in the cold alley below. 

 

Just when the man stepped one foot out onto the rusted fire escape with Charles in tow, a pained groan echoed out into the darkened room. 

 

Hope soared into Charles’ chest, and his kidnapper paused, waiting. 

 

The sound came again, louder, and the man carrying Charles paused with one leg out of the window and stepping on the rusted iron of the fire escape. Charles craned his neck the best he could, trying to see if it was Erik that was making the distressed sounds. 

 

“Charles?” A familiar voiced mumbled in confusion.

 

Charles’ eyes widened, desperate tears running down his face as he screamed into the duct tape over his mouth, trying to let Erik know that he was alive, and currently being held against his will. 

 

“ _ Shut up. _ ” The man hissed to Charles, voice deep and thickly accented. He stepped back into the bedroom and crossed over to the bed, heaving Charles up a bit more comfortably on his shoulder. He was facing away from the bed, where he assumed Erik was, staring down at the moonlit carpet and hoping with all his heart that the man wouldn’t kill his lover. 

 

There was a full body jerk, and the sound of leather hitting skin, followed by a grunt and the creak of the bedsprings as Erik’s limp body slumped back down into the mattress. The man carrying Charles turned back around, satisfied, giving Charles the opportunity to lift his head up and steal a look at Erik. He could tell that the side of his face was wet, shining black with blood from being struck over the head. Charles sobbed loudly, heart aching for the man lying unconscious on the bed. 

 

At least he wasn’t dead, and at least he wouldn’t have to watch as Charles was taken from him.

 

They stepped through the window and out onto the fire escape, cold air seeping into Charles’ damp towel and hair. The man kept a firm grip on Charles as he descended the iron stairs towards a destination unknown to Charles. His head bobbed with every step the man took, shaking the dirty pavement below. The alley smelled like old garbage and wet fur, and Charles found himself distantly hoping that the stray animal hiding amongst the dumpsters was okay. 

Suddenly, the man stopped walking, and Charles started thinking the absolute worst. 

Was he going to be killed now? Or give him to someone else? His stalker, or The Heartbreaker? 

_ Was this man his stalker or the serial killer?  _ Or did he just work for either of them? 

Charles heard the distinct sound of a trunk popping open, and immediately started thrashing again. The masked man just laughed, seemingly delighted by the struggling, which didn’t bode well for Charles. He was then unceremoniously thrown into the dimly lit trunk, his head bouncing off the roughly textured floorboards. 

_ “Just wait until the boss gets a load of you. He likes it when they fight.”  _

The accent sounded Russian, but Charles couldn’t be sure, and he didn’t have time to think on it either, because the man was quickly bringing his fist down towards Charles’ face, hitting him square in the jaw and whipping his head to the side. Stars danced in Charles’ eyes and he attempted to blink them away. 

The second punch is the one that did it, splitting the skin open on his bottom lip and effectively plunging him into dizzying darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It went down.


	18. Bumps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were still moving when Charles came to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short but you get the point. 
> 
> Be wary! Chapters after this will most likely be graphic in content!

They were still moving when Charles came to. 

 

His arms itched and burned, raw from being taped together. His head and jaw throbbed and ached from being hit. The road they were traveling on was bumpy, jostling Charles’ body around in the cramped trunk lightly. 

 

He had no idea where they were, or if they were even still in New York. It was very possible that they crossed state lines. He didn’t even know what time of day it was, or how long he’d been out. Suddenly, the weight of the situation he was in bore down on Charles and crushed the air right out of his lungs. He had been kidnapped in the nude by a masked Russian, taped together like a broken tv antenna, and thrown in a cluttered trunk as if he were groceries. Erik had been assaulted, twice, and had to be losing his mind with worry at this point. 

The worst part about the whole ordeal? Charles didn’t even know if he’d ever see him again. 

The back of a darkened trunk could be one of the last things Charles was ever going to see before he was reluctantly taken out of the world. Probably violently. At that thought, Charles started to sob for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He couldn’t believe that this was happening to him. What did he do to deserve any of this? Exist? 

Charles cried until his throat was on fire and his eyes were too sore to produce anymore tears. Shortly after that, the car took a sharp turn and then jerked to a hard stop. Charles held his bound hands out in front of him to prevent his face from bashing into the door of the trunk. He heard the driver’s side door creak open and slam closed, then heavy footsteps crunching on the ground towards the back of the car. Charles tensed and racked his brain for ways to possibly fight off the anonymous man. 

He could kick out with his taped legs when the man opened the trunk, but then what? It’s not like he could run away. There was nothing he could do, not right now, so he would just have to wait until the right moment came. He was getting out of this alive and making his way back to Erik. No matter what. 

The trunk popped open, and Charles was greeted by the white, expressionless mask, frigid air, and a thousand glowing stars set against a black sky. 

_ “Come along now, pretty. The boss would like to see you now.”  _

That voice makes Charles’ blood run cold. 

Charles struggled violently, definitely not making the walk to wherever they were going easy for the masked man, as he kept having to fix his grip on the nearly naked man to keep him from plummeting right off his shoulder. From the view of his surroundings, Charles guessed that they were miles out of town, but had no way of knowing if they had state hopped yet. Trees, fields, and dirt roads stretched out in front of Charles when he tilted his head up. They trudged passed a huge, white Victorian style farmhouse, towards what Charles could only assume was a barn or shed of some sort. 

The man finally stopped, and so did Charles’ struggling. He wanted to save what little strength he had for fighting this ‘Boss’ his capture kept mentioning. Charles scoffed inside his head at the thought, as if he his life was some kind of mature rated video game. There was knock, and then the deafening sound of a large door groaning open, and the smell of fresh hay wafted passed them. The Russian walked inside, and the door was closed by two other men behind them. They had the same ivory, expressionless masks on, but these men were dressed in sharp looking suits as opposed to the black pants and hoodie ensemble like the man currently dropping him gracelessly into a cold metal chair. 

 

Two more men were standing in front of said chair, and once Charles was sat down, one of them came forward, a large hunting knife in his hand. Charles stiffened, ready to start kicking out if he needed to, but the man simply grabbed his bound hands and sliced at the sticky tape, cutting his hands free. The same was done to his legs, and then Charles kicked the still kneeling man in the face, sending him sprawling into the hay littered ground, and bolted out of the chair. 

No one made a move to stop him until he got to the barn doors, when one of the man standing guard pulled a gun out of his suit, shot at the wall to his right to show Charles that it was loaded, and pressed the still steaming muzzle to his forehead. Charles has never been held at gunpoint before this moment, has never even  _ seen _ a gun with his own eyes before, outside of tv shows and movies. Part of him thought that the man wouldn’t shoot to kill him, since someone went through the trouble to bring him here. Whoever it was wanted him alive, but that didn’t mean that this man wouldn’t shoot to  _ wound _ him. 

Rough hands grabbed him from behind, dragging him back to the chair and holding him down in it. Another masked man appeared with a several lengths of rope and began tying Charles’ ankles to each leg of the chair, spreading them apart slightly. The same was done to his arms, stretching them uncomfortably behind his back, the metal of the chair slowly warming against his heated skin. The bindings were tight, quickly cutting off his circulation. Charles struggled a bit, testing, but there was no give. The tape still tightly wrapped around his head and mouth stayed.

He was trapped. 

No one seemed to be making a move to do anything, which confused Charles, but also made him sag in relief. They all seemed to be waiting for something, or someone, and the anticipation made his relief slowly leak away into bone aching tension. It was apparent that they were waiting for ‘The Boss’, and judging by the body language of all the masked men spread out around him, said ‘Boss’ couldn’t be the friendliest person to roam the earth. 

The big barn door behind Charles protested greatly as it was pulled open again. 

Heavy footsteps slowly made their way to where he was tightly bound, his heart thudding louder and louder in his chest with every step. The two men standing guard in front of Charles straightened their posture, standing taller and more alert, one of them shifting nervously. Obviously, Charles was about to meet the critically acclaimed ‘Boss’.   

The stomping footsteps halted in front of Charles, and when he looked up to see who it was, his heart stopped in his chest, falling heavily down into his stomach. 

 

 

 

Victor Creed, Logan’s half brother, was smiling down at him.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it who you thought it would be?


	19. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles was at a loss for words, literally and figuratively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some warnings for this chapter: abuse and mention of molestation

Charles was at a loss for words, literally and figuratively. 

 

While he’s only met Victor a handful of times, he never thought that he’d be capable of something like this, not with the way his brother was always going on about him. 

 

Apparently, he never quite took to school, and was always skipping classes or failing the few he did attend. This led him to act out on a daily basis. Vandalising property, experimenting with drugs, getting in the the wrong crowd, all that jazz. It all came to a head the day that Victor got sent to juvie at the age of 17 for attempted rape of a 15 year old girl. No one could say that they saw it coming, considering all the other petty crimes he committed. None of them held a candle to this one. 

 

After he served his time in juvie, Victor was to serve an additional ten years in a correctional facility. 

 

He got released on good behavior after only serving five. 

 

“A whole new man”, everyone said, and it seemed so. He went to school for business, bought The Hellfire Club shortly after Shaw was arrested, and had apparently found religion. Logan and everyone else that knew the man were so proud of him. The club was doing great, and Victor was now an outstanding member of the community. He was one of the nicest persons you would ever meet, but it was all just an overdone mask that Victor liked to hide behind. 

 

Charles had thousands of questions racing through his mind, but he wasn’t able to voice any of them. 

 

“It’s  _ so  _ good to see you again, Charles, and I must say it’s an  _ honor   _ to finally have you here with me.” Victor purred to the bound man, trailing a hand around the edge of his taped up face, brushing back the bit of hair that managed to escape the duct tape’s hold. Charles flinched away, and glared at the man, doing his best to conceal his fear and confusion from his captor’s gaze. 

 

“Right where you’ve always belonged.” The large hand continued to pet his hair, his eyes gleaming, affectionately possessive. 

 

Distantly, Charles wondered if Logan knew where his brother was. 

 

“There’s no reason to be scared, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you. I mean, I hope I won’t have to, anyways.” 

 

Charles made of soft noise of perplexed fear into his sticky gag. What a very comforting thing to say to somebody you had bounded and gagged at your mercy. He started to struggle slightly, fear and adrenaline making him stupid enough to think he was getting free anytime soon. 

 

Victor chuckled deeply, and kneeled down so he was almost eye level with Charles. 

 

“We both know you’re not going anywhere, Charles, not when I went through all this trouble to get you here with me.” A heavy hand fell onto Charles’ knee. “This was a last resort, of course. I tried to be civil about it, but you kept ignoring my gifts I was always careful to make sure that you would hear about all of them.” A thick thumb was now rubbing circles into his skin. “To be honest, I was a little surprised you didn’t catch on sooner. It wasn’t exactly an accident that they all looked like you.” 

 

The heart still floating in Charles’ stomach fell once more, all the way down to the dirty ground below. 

 

“You figured it out soon enough, though, didn’t you?” Victor went on, paying no mind to the realization forming tears in Charles’ eyes. “Sure, I had to give you a little push, but you caught on quickly after that. I knew you would, you’re so smart.” The hand on his knee slid up slowly, small circles now being rubbed on the inside of Charles’ thigh. He closed his legs the best he could, but it only served to encourage the hand more, slinking even further up his leg and stopping right before it got to where Charles was most vulnerable. 

 

He wouldn’t be able to stop Victor from molesting him if the man tried. 

 

The still kneeling man noticed Charles’ blatant discomfort, but made no move to remove his hand from where it was roughly kneading the soft flesh. Instead, he continued with his monologue. 

 

“It’s one of the many things I love about you, you know. That lovely brain of yours. It is one of the reasons I fell in love with you, after all. That, and those heartstopping eyes of yours, and your teasingly red mouth.” His eyes trailed down to where Charles mouth would be if it wasn’t covered by the silver duct tape, and for a second he looked betrayed by the gag. Victor licked his lips in thought, and then shot up and held his hand out to one of the men behind him. 

 

He barked something in a language Charles didn’t know, and the man pulled out the same hunting knife as before. 

 

Charles held perfectly still, tears streaming down his face as Victor carefully cut the tape around his head, no doubt slicing chunks of his hair off in the process. Once it was all out of his hair, only the bit on his mouth remained, which was swiftly ripped off with a pained cry from Charles. The knife was still gripped tight in Victor’s hand, so Charles didn’t say anything just yet. Victor’s empty hand rose up to caress his face again, this time without a barrier. 

 

The expression in his eyes was near manic, and possessive in a way that made his stomach churn. He traced a finger around Charles’ mouth, and then leaned down to kiss him. 

Charles tried to move his head away, but Victor had a firm grip on his face that would most likely leave ugly fingerprint bruises. 

Victor’s mouth was disgustingly wet and his lips were chapped to the point of cracking. He moaned into the one sided kiss, while Charles sobbed and tried to pull away in vain. A slimy tongue licked at his bottom lip, and Charles bit down on Victor’s bottom lip as hard as he could before the appendage could force its way into his unwilling mouth. Victor yelped in pain and quickly pulled away. Charles was about to curse the man out, but then a hand shot out and slapped him in the face hard enough to draw blood. His head snapped to the side, and he let out a yell. 

“I told you I didn’t want to hurt you!” Victor screamed in rage. “Look what you made me do!” 

Another slap, this time on the other cheek, and Charles was sobbing loudly. 

“St-stop! Please stop. Let me go.” Charles begged, blood and spit dripping down his chin and falling onto the white towel in round spots. 

“Oh, but you just got here, baby. The real fun hasn’t even started yet.” Victor cooed, towering above him and breathing heavily. He glanced around the room as if just noticing their silent audience. 

“Leave us. Now.” He commanded, his eyes falling darkly on the sobbing man once more. 

 

There was a shuffle of footsteps, a heavy bellow as the barn door was pulled open, and then Charles was left alone, helplessly bound to a chair,  with a highly dangerous Victor Creed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be in Erik's POV. Poor Erik.


	20. Theirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever took his precious Charles away from him was going to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really short chapter about what happened with Erik after his baby was abducted. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: slight violence, mentions of major character death

Erik woke up with a sharp pain in his brain and an odd sinking feeling in his heart. 

 

He blinked rapidly, trying to disperse the stars dancing in his eyes, and reached a heavy hand up to clutch at his throbbing head. A wetness on the side of his face startled him, and he pulled his hand back to find it sticky with blood.

 

The events of the night before came rushing back to him with heartbreaking clarity. 

  
  


_ Erik had just put his beloved Charles in a hot bath to soak away his pain, just like his mother used to for his stomach aches, hoping it would help with Charles the way it did with him. He went into the kitchen to clean up the dinner dishes, and had just finished scrubbing out the greasy steak pan someone grabbed him roughly from behind.  _

 

_ He startled, but didn't have enough time to yell out before a glove clad hand was covering his mouth and he was being dragged back towards Charles’ bedroom. He attempted to kick out, to make as much noise as possible as to alert the very vulnerable Charles to the intruder, but the attacker was smart and made sure to keep Erik away from the walls.  _

 

_ The overly plush carpet lining the floor didn't help him make much noise, either.  _

 

_ The man-Erik assumed it was a man based off the silhouettes bulky build-threw him into the darkened room and punched him once across the face. Erik fell onto the soft mattress behind him and tried to shake off the lights flashing behind his eyelids. He had to get to Charles, he had to make sure Charles stayed safe. Erik pushed himself off the bed, dizzy from the hit, and lunged at the man. The trespasser was ready for him, though, and kicked his boot into Erik's stomach. _

 

_ He gasped and doubled over in pain, clutching his stinging belly. This man was strong, and no doubt an experienced fighter. Erik has only ever been in two fights, and they were both with people shorter and smaller than he was, so it wasn't like he had to try hard.  _

 

_ He prayed that Charles would be unharmed and still finding him appealing when all this was over, as he was most likely not going to be his knight in shining armor tonight.  _

 

_ The bulky shadow approached him again, and with a sharp right hook to the jaw, the bed came rushing up behind him to catch him, swallowing him up in it's soft darkness.  _

 

_ The first time he came to, it was to the creak of rusted metal.  _

 

_ Erik's eyes shot open, and with it came a sharp ache. He groaned aloud, and looked around the softly moonlit room. There was a blurry silhouette of someone standing hallway out of the window, with what looked like a rug thrown over their shoulder.  _

 

_ Except that didn't make any sense, and suddenly Erik was reminded of the happening of what must've been just a few moments before.  _

 

_ An intruder, leather gloves, searing pain, dizzying darkness, and Charles.  _

 

_ Charles!  _

 

_ He groaned again, and weakly called out for his lover.  _

 

_ “Charles?” Erik slurred, trying to focus his vision on the mass now walking towards him.  _

 

_ A dull thud collided with his face, and the darkness greeted him with open arms once more.  _

  
  


Erik's heart was close to jumping out of his chest. 

 

He leaped out of the bed and ran to the bathroom, where he knew Charles wasn't going to be, but for some unknown reason he had to see it with his own eyes before he would believe it. 

 

Charles had been taken. 

 

A man broke into their (their?) flat last night, eliminated Erik as a threat embarrassingly fast, and then took Charles with him when he left.  _ His  _ Charles. His sweet, wonderful Charles, was missing. Taken from him in the dead of night, and all because Erik was a terrible fighter. He couldn't  _ believe _ that he'd let this happen, after all the things that have been happening lately. 

 

He couldn't believe that he allowed someone to come into their (there's that word again) home and  _ take _ Charles from was what supposed to be his safe space. 

 

Right out of the bathtub no less. 

 

His Charles was  _ somewhere _ unknown to Erik, with  _ people _ unknown to Erik, completely nude and most likely terrified. Erik needed to do something. He needed to call someone.  _ Anyone.  _

 

He ran into the living room and picked up the business card that was thankfully still laying there. 

  
  


Detective MacTaggert was knocking on the flat door exactly ten minutes after Erik got off the phone with her. 

 

“Erik, are you okay?” She said seriously, but her eyes betrayed her true concern. 

 

“Yes I'm fine, it's Charles I'm worried about. He's been taken, Detective,  _ taken.  _ A man broke into this flat and  _ stole _ him right out of the bathtub.” 

 

Except he hadn't, because the tub was empty when Erik went in. So Charles had gotten out, probably to investigate the lack of noise in the small space. 

 

“I know, that's almost exactly what you said over the phone.” She guided Erik to sit down and stop his pacing. He went reluctantly. 

 

“We're going to find him, Erik.  _ Alive.  _ I won't see it happen any other way.” 

 

Erik never even thought Charles being dead by now was a possibility, and he didn't want to start either. 

 

“I know, I know. I just can't believe I let this happen. I was supposed to  _ protect him _ , damn it.” Erik snarled, still seething at himself. He'd spend the rest of his like making up for it. That he swore. 

 

“It's not your fault, Erik. Whoever took him was going to do so whether you were here or not. Whether you fought back, or not. This was the endgame for this person, and it was going to happen no matter what.” She placed a comforting hand on Erik's knee. 

 

“There was nothing anyone could do to stop this from happening. Not really, but we  _ can _ keep it from happening again, or to anyone else, by catching this sick bastard.” 

 

She pulled out a little black note pad and pen. 

 

“Now, tell me what you remember from last night.”

 

Erik took a deep, steadying breath. 

 

After Detective MacTaggert had gone, promising to call Erik if she had any new leads on Charles’ case, Erik slouched down on the couch, unsure of what to do with himself now. 

 

He didn't have to think too long on it, because suddenly there was another knock at the door. 

 

Erik got up warily, peering through the peephole to see who it was. 

 

A teary faced Raven and an angry looking Logan stared back at him. He opened the door. 

 

“Oh my God, Erik!” Raven sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. Erik hugged her back just as tightly, hot tears now running freely down his own face. This was the first time he's cried since discovering his Charles’ disappearance. 

 

Logan joined the hug pile too, surprisingly, and if Erik heard a couple of sniffles coming from the burly man, well, nobody had to know. 

 

They all sat down together in silence, thinking over the abduction of their lover, their brother, and their dear friend. 

 

It was Logan that broke the silence at last. 

 

“We're going to find him, and we're going to find him alive. I don't want him back any other way.” 

 

The words sounded harsh, but Erik would be lying if he said that he didn't slightly agree with them. 

 

He couldn't bare to think of what he'd do if Charles wasn't found alive. It might be a bit too early in the relationship to say such a thing, but Erik honestly thinks he could love Charles. His feelings for the man are already pretty deep, and he hasn't gone a single second without thinking of the man since he met him. Erik could see himself spend the rest of his life with Charles, and he never thought he'd say that about another person since his wife's death. 

 

Whoever took his precious Charles away from him was going to pay, and they were going to pay in blood. 

  
Lots of it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll see a lot more of Erik's point of view from this point on, I'm sure.


	21. Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just a misunderstanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: mention of possible sexual abuse, graphic violence, graphic description of blood, and all around creepiness.

After the door creaked shut and Charles was left alone with an unstable Victor Creed, he started to fear the worst. 

 

All Victor wanted to do was talk, though.

 

For now. 

 

“We're not gonna do anything quite yet, sweetheart, but don't you worry. We'll have our fun before the night is out.” Victor said confidently, running a hand through Charles’ brown curls repeatedly, as if he couldn't help himself. 

 

Charles doesn't think he's ever dreaded a sunrise so much in his life. 

 

Victor stopped petting the still bleeding man and walked over to an empty stable at Charles’ right. It was big, so it was most likely meant for horses, but Charles hasn't heard a single animal since he's been here. He took a moment to look around the barn while Victor was distracted, and noticed something in one of the other stables that made his blood freeze up in his veins. 

 

There were chains, drooping with heavy metal cuffs, mounted to the wall, positioned low enough to the ground to allow someone to sit while they were tied up. 

 

There was also blood. 

 

Dried and probably days old, it stained the small bed of hay that resided in a corner and the rest of the dirt covering  the ground in terrifyingly large pools. 

 

There was also a stomach churning amount splattered on the wall behind the heavy iron bindings. 

 

Charles bet the whole house, and some of the neighboring residences, that it didn't used to belong to any horse. 

 

Victor noticed Charles’ gaze, and came back over to put a “comforting” hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Oh don't worry, Charles. You won't be staying down here with all this mess. I made up a special little room upstairs, just for you.” He pointed up to the space above them, and when Charles followed his finger, he could just barely see the top of what looked like a cream colored lampshade. 

 

“Would you like to see it?” Victor asked excitedly. Charles shook his head, but the man was already cutting his bindings loose. 

 

This could be Charles’ only chance to get out and run to freedom. 

 

Except Victor was smarter than Charles took him for apparently, because the moment his arms and legs were free, Victor grabbed him tightly by his upper arm, hauled him out of the chair, and pressed the hunting knife against his pale throat. 

 

“It’s not that I think you're stupid enough to try anything, but you've already proved me wrong once tonight. As I've said before, Charles, I really don't want to hurt you, but I will if you make me.” 

 

He situated their bodies so that Charles was standing in front of him and wrapped an arm around his waist, knife still poised threateningly at his throat.  

 

“Now walk, towards the ladder.” 

 

Charles was shaking so hard he thought his legs would give out underneath him. 

 

He slowly inched his way to the ladder standing in front of him, wood steps leading up unknowingly to what could literally be his deathbed. 

 

When he got to the ladder, the knife was removed from his neck and was instead pressed sharply into his lower back, telling him to keep going and not to try anything or else he'd be needing a new kidney. 

 

Charles climbed the ladder slowly, each rung completely unapologetic as they guided him up to the makeshift room. He stumbled a bit when he got to the top, Victor clamping down on the backs of his thighs to keep him from falling backwards. 

 

He landed instead on his hands and knees, thick wood cutting splinters into his skin. He looked up, and had to throw a hand to his mouth to stifle a sob. 

 

It looked just like his bedroom. 

 

The layout was exactly the same, right down to where the window was. 

 

It was his dresser, his lamp, his bedside tables. The only things that were missing were his closet and the bedroom door. There were even walls that looked recently added in-painted the same cream beige as his bedroom back home-closing off the little room, the bed up against one and the dresser sitting against another, a few feet from the end of the bed. 

 

His stolen bedding, draped innocently made up the way he liked it, made the room complete. 

 

Charles thought he was going to be sick. 

 

“Do you like it?” Victor huffed, climbing the rest of the way up being Charles and pulling the man to his feet. “I know a couple of things are missing but I did what I could with what I had. And look here.” 

 

He dragged Charles over to the dresser and pulled open one of the drawers, Charles’ own wardrobe choices staring back at him. 

 

Most of them were newly bought, merely replicas of the real things, but a few of the sweaters and pairs of pants were Charles’ own, having been taken along with his bedding. 

 

Charles watched as Victor lightly caressed the sweaters sitting at the very top. The drawers were even made up the way he liked them, color coded and stacked by thickness of the top. The other drawers would no doubt be the same way. A cold chill danced up his spine at the idea that this man looked through his underwear drawer enough to know what he wore and how he arranged them.

 

He was openly sobbing now, terrified and beyond creeped out at the whole display. 

 

He felt like he couldn't breathe, his vision going blurry with tears and vertigo. He had to get away from this man. Charles doesn't know what happened to Victor, perhaps he was always mentally unfit and was just really good at hiding it, but he definitely wasn't safe to be around. It didn't take a rocket scientist to piece together what, or rather who Victor Creed really was. 

 

He was Charles’ violently insistent secret admirer. 

 

He was The Heartbreaker. 

 

It was obvious now, why all those men had been found they way they had. Violated, their hearts ripped out of their chests. 

 

Why they all kind of looked like him. 

 

Suddenly, a memory emerged out of murky waters, edges dipped in sepia brown. 

  
  


_ “Charles, I'd like you to meet my brother, Victor. You've been under my wing for months and I think it's time you finally did. I actually can't believe you've never met him, to be honest.” Logan said, his arm slung around the shoulders of a tall, burly muscled man.  _

 

_ Charles laughed softly.  _

 

_ “I'm starting to think that your wing isn't the brightest place to be, and this isn't really my scene, Logan, you know that.” He said teasingly, gesturing around the Hellfire Club. It's his first time visiting the place, and Charles had to say that it wasn't so bad.  _

 

_ Charles held out the hand that wasn't holding a glass of scotch for the man to shake.  _

 

_ Victor took it gently in his and shook it slightly, his eyes boring into Charles’ with such an odd intensity that he felt unsure of himself for a moment.  _

 

_ Charles took his hand back and cleared his throat.  _

_ “Well, would you like a drink Victor?” Charles asked politely, trying to be nice despite the uneasy feeling the man gave him. He was Logan's brother after all, and he could say that he trusted the man.   _

 

_ Victor smirked, and nodded his head.  _

 

_ They all talked together for a few hours, Victor sitting to Charles’ right and Logan on his left. Every now and then, Charles would glance over to Victor to ask his opinion on the current topic of discussion and would discover the man already looking at him with the same burning intensity as before. Charles thought it bizarre, and a little creepy, but harmless.  _

 

_ They'd just met after all.  _

 

_ Perhaps Victor was just trying to judge his character a bit better.  _

 

_ When it became late and they all agreed that it was time to go home, Victor offered to walk Charles to his flat.  _

 

_ Not wanting to be rude to his dear friend’s brother, Charles agreed. It would give them time to get to know each other little more.  _

 

_ The walk wasn't as quiet or awkward as Charles thought it would be, conversation flowing easily between them, and when they got to his door he was actually kind of grateful for the company.  _

 

_ “I'd invite you in so we could finish our conversation but it  _ is _ quite late and I have an early class to teach tomorrow.” Charles said apologetically. He liked Victor enough, despite the way the man looked at him, and would like to speak with him again. He had some very interesting views on some of Charles’ favorite topics.  _

 

_ “Thank you for walking me home though, you really didn't have to.”  _

 

_ “It was nothing, Charles, really. Thank you for letting me.” Victor said lowly, a soft smile spreading over his face.  _

 

_ “You're quite welcome, Victor.” Charles said, an amused laugh decorating his voice.  _

 

_ Victor nodded in farewell, stating a hope to see Charles again soon, and took his leave. Charles turned around, unlocked his door, and entered his flat.  _

 

_ It wasn't until he was laying down in bed, darkness swimming all around him, did realize his earlier offer for Victor to come inside sort of sounded like he was trying to bed the man. _

  
  


The memory receded back into the waters, leaving Charles nearly drowned. 

 

That was four months ago. 

 

Right before the murders started. 

 

It was his fault. Charles did this, all of this. He led the man on. He broke his heart, which led him to break the hearts of 15 innocent men that looked just like him in retaliation. 

 

Charles did collapse this time, falling onto the floor in a heap next to his dresser impersonation. Victor knelt down beside his quaking body, petting and shushing him softly. 

 

“It's alright now, Charles. You're safe. You're here with me now, right where you've always wanted to be.” 

 

He pressed a kiss into the brown curls, just like Erik always did, and Charles snapped. 

 

“ _ I don't want to be here with you! I don't  _ fucking _ want you!”  _ He bellowed, shoving the man away from him with all his strength. He bolted up off the floor and ran towards the ladder. Charles didn't even make it halfway down before there was a hand gripping fistfulls of his hair, yanking him up the rungs and bashing his legs on the wood in the process. 

 

“God  _ damn it, Charles!”  _ Victor shouted, throwing him violently to the ground. “ _ Why don't you listen?” _ He hissed, before kicking Charles square in the stomach. Charles cried out, clutching a hand to the throbbing spot and curling in on himself in an effort to protect his insides. 

 

He was kicked again, and again and again and again. 

 

Charles was close to letting the soothing darkness take him, when rough hands lifted him up off the ground and tossed him onto the bed. 

 

He thinks he bit into his tongue in the landing, but the pain of it just melted in with the rest. 

 

“You are going to stay in bed until you learn to stop being so stubborn.” 

 

The same heavy cuffs that were mounted to the wall downstairs suddenly appeared in Victor's hands, which were slightly trembling with anger. He fastened them around each of Charles’ wrists, and once he was sure that the man wouldn't be slipping out of them any time soon, he moved to the end of the bed and pulled out another cuff. 

 

This one had a longer chain that looked like it could stretch all the way to edge of the hayloft. Victor hooked it around his right ankle, and then moved his leg aside so he could sit on the bed with his captive Charles. 

 

“I don't want to have to keep chained up like this, Charles, but I will if you can't behave.” He said disappointedly, as if Charles was a naughty child that kept drawing on the walls. 

 

“Victor please, listen to me. It wasn't my intention to lead you on, or make you believe I was interested in a relationship with you. I was just trying to be  _ nice.  _ Logan wanted us to be friends. I was trying to be your friend, Victor. That's all…” 

 

Charles trailed off weakly, tired and aching from being beat. 

 

He just wanted to go back home. To Erik. 

 

“Lying isn't very good behavior, Charles.” Victor snapped irritably.  

 

Charles just cried. 

 

Victor got up from the bed. 

 

“I'll be back in the morning to check on your attitude. I hope, for your sake, that it will be better. You  _ don't  _ want me to have to punish you.” 

 

He walked forward and pressed another kiss to Charles’ head. Charles didn't move. He was too tired. 

 

Victor clicked off the lamp before heading towards the ladder. 

 

“Goodnight, Charles.” Was all he said before his descension. Charles could hear the ladder creaking with the weight of it's climber. 

  
The heavy barn door loudly protesting it's opening was the last thing he heard before being left alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I ever stated how many victims there were at the start, but if did, and this number doesn't add up with it, please tell me. 
> 
> There's been like two (three?) more since the story started. I'm sure you guys know better than I do. 
> 
> Poor Charles.


	22. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik had more faith in Charles than he did in Detective MacTaggert and the NYPD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super duper short chapter from Erik's POV. Like really short, but kinda sweet. 
> 
> Updates might be a bit more spaced out than usual because I've have a lot of stuff going on lately. 
> 
> I apologize for any inconveniences and will do my best to update as soon as I can!

Waking up without Charles was the hardest thing Erik has ever had to do.

 

It didn't feel right going back to his place, not with Charles was missing, so he decided to stay at the flat.

 

He was going to keep it company until Charles came back home. Not knowing what else to do with himself, Erik decided to clean the place up a bit. He did the dishes he used for breakfast, wiped down the counters, took the trash out, and then swept and mopped the floor.

 

When he got to the living room, however, he froze. Charles’ bookcase had been destroyed, and they still hadn't got him a replacement. 

 

Books were sitting on the floor where the bookshelf used to be, and the sight made Erik's heart clench tightly. The mattress was also still lacking in proper bedding, and that simply wouldn't do either.

 

Erik knew exactly what he was going to do with himself.

  
  


Shopping for Charles while the man's gorgeous face was plastered in every window of every store he went into was the _second_ hardest thing Erik's ever had to do.

 

Missing posters for one Charles Francis Xavier were all over the city, and with each one he passed, his heart broke a little bit more in his chest. He wishes he could be out there _looking_ for Charles, but Detective MacTaggert specifically forbid Erik from doing so.

 

“ _You'll only end up hurting yourself more, and will most likely just end up in trouble.”_

 

Her words echoed in Erik's mind, and while he knew she was right, he hated not doing anything. It made him feel useless. His lover was missing, taken by a deranged serial killer, and Erik was out _shopping for fucking furniture._  

 

The only thing that kept him from giving up and going back to Charles’ flat to sob his eyes out was the fact that he _knew_ Charles was going to love the things Erik got for him.

 

The bedsheets he picked out were Charles’ favorite colors, and they would look _amazing_ against the man's skin. The bookshelf he was having delivered was almost completely identical to the previous, only this one was bigger.

 

It would give Charles more space for his ever growing library.

 

On a whim, Erik also bought a few throw blankets. They were extremely soft, and no doubt extremely warm. He thought that Charles would love them, too. He was always complaining about how cold he got when he sat out in the couch to grade papers and what not.

 

Speaking of couches, Erik needed to make a phone call.

 

When Erik got back to the flat, he had just enough time to make the bed and stuff the new throw blankets into the linen closet before the bookshelf arrived.

 

Once the bookshelf arrived, he figured he could put it up and alphabetize all the books the way Charles had them before, and be finished just in time to help bring up the new couch.  

 

The new couch was more comfortable than the last, and better looking too. It was a nice, deep red, like Charles’ favorite wine, and was slightly bigger too. Just like his bookshelf. 

 

It matched the rest of the furniture without clashing horribly, and once it was nestled in its proper place, Erik felt just a little bit better about everything, knowing that Charles was going to come home to so many pleasant surprises.

 

Still, the thought of the missing man made something deep within him ache terribly.

 

The last two times he felt like that, he'd lost his parents, and then his wife.

 

Charles wasn't _dead_ though, he was just lost.

 

If there was one person Erik could count on to bring Charles back, it was Charles himself. That man was as stubborn as a mule, and more vicious when provoked than a wild boar. It was one of the reasons Erik was drawn to the man the way he was.

 

Charles didn't give up on the things he believed in, and while Erik hasn't known him long, he's seen him interact with other people enough to know that he won't allow people to just walk all over him if he can help it.

 

Erik had more faith in Charles than he did in Detective MacTaggert and the NYPD.

 

Charles would come back home-maybe not unscathed-but whole, and when he did, Erik would be waiting right here for him.

 

He would always wait for Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the shortness, and for the less frequent updates! 
> 
> Stick with me, I don't think you'll regret it! :)


	23. Bedposts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was time to go back home, and fly into the arms of his beloved Erik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to change things up and do away with the rape warnings, as there will be no such thing happening to our precious Charles. 
> 
> Not this time around.
> 
> Hopefully you all will still be happy with out the story turns out, as I think we're getting close to end. 
> 
> Happy feelings all around!

When Charles woke up the next morning, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was his bedroom.

 

_It was all just a horrible nightmare._ Charles thought, relieved. Right up until he shifted on the bed so he could stretch, and the cuffs around his wrists and ankle clinked softly.

 

He wasn't in his bedroom, he was in a cheap knock-off.

 

Panic shot through Charles, slapping away the grogginess of a deep sleep and replacing it with freezing fear. He sat up the best he could his his hands bound, and looked around the hayloft. He couldn't see anyone, or heard anything, so he figured he was safe for the moment.

 

He had to figure out a way to get out of here.

 

There's no telling what Victor would do to him, the man obviously wasn't well, and has probably needed help for years. There had to have been signs of this kind of behaviour before Victor started killing. 

 

As much as Charles hated to admit it, he hoped that Victor actually got the help he needed once Charles was free and Victor was caught.

 

Serial killers aren't made in a day, after all. Something like this would've been building up for _years_ before finally boiling over.

 

Charles wasn't one to talk, though, because he's met Victor plenty of times and never once thought that something was off about him.

 

He was sorry for that, thinking maybe if he _had_ noticed something, then maybe Victor wouldn't have taken so many lives.

 

The bellow of the barn door opening broke Charles out of his thoughts, unease coiling deep within his belly. He didn't hear anything else until heavy footsteps started climbing the rungs of the ladder.

 

Victor appeared from behind one of the built in walls, a tray of food balanced in his right hand. He sat the tray down in the dresser across from the bed, and walked over to Charles to free his hands from the cuffs.

 

“Good morning, Charles. I hope you're feeling better today.” Victor said after Charles’ hands were in his lying limp in his lap, tingling slightly from blood loss.

 

Charles didn't reply, choosing instead to look out the window.

 

The sky was a brilliant blue, but Charles could feel the chill in the air from his spot on the bed. He didn't stir when Victor placed the tray in front of him, even though his stomach rumbled painfully once it got a whiff of the pancakes and bacon still steaming on the plate.

 

Pancakes were his favourite, and Victor was taking advantage of that knowledge, so Charles wasn't going to give in. He wasn't going to give this man the satisfaction.

 

“Oh, come on now Charles, don't be like that. I made your favorite, just for you.” Victor cooed, sitting on the end of the bed. “You need to eat, to keep your strength up, and I'm not leaving until you do.”

 

Charles ignored him.

 

“If you don't pick up that fork and start eating, I'm going to feed you myself, and something tells me you're not going to like that very much.”

 

The threat in his voice was obvious. Charles pulled the tray closer to him, and reluctantly picked up a piece of bacon.

 

Victor smiled, victorious.

 

“Good boy. Now, I have some business to take care of before we can start our day, but it shouldn't take long. I trust you'll behave while I'm gone?” He raised an eyebrow at Charles, who nodded slightly, still refusing to look at the man.

 

“Good.” Was all Victor said before standing up and pressing a kiss to Charles' hair. His boots thudded heavily across the wood towards the ladder, each rung crying out it's protest at being stepped on as the man descended.

 

The door groaned closed, and Charles was alone again.

 

He shoved the tray away from him, orange juice tipping over onto the comforter, and jump out of the bed. His hands were free, but his ankle was still bound to the bedpost by the iron cuff, the long chain only letting him go as far as the wall.

 

This was an exact replica of Charles’ bed, though, and he's had the damn thing long enough to know that the wooden bed posts holding the box spring up was shit. 

 

He's lost count of all the times he's thrown himself on the bed in exasperation or exhaustion, only to have the posts snap out from under him.

 

A few kicks should do the trick.

 

Charles sat on his behind at the end of the bed, and started kicking the post his leg was chained to.

 

It broke after the third try, daintily soft wood snapping with the force and sending the edge of the bed collapsing towards the ground, Charles using what little body strength he had left to catch it before it crashed to the ground and altered anyone to his escape.

 

He lowered it gently to the ground, and stood back up. The cuff was screwed into the wood by a chain link, so Charles was stuck with the piece of bed post for now. The chain was long enough, however, to allow him to hold it up enough to be used as a weapon without hurting his ankle.

 

This was going better than Charles thought it would.

 

Hopefully, it wasn't one of Victor's plans all along, and he actually had a fighting chance of getting the hell out of here and going back home.

 

Just to be safe though, Charles grabbed the fork and glass cup that came with his forgotten breakfast. He could definitely stab someone with a fork or smash a glass cup over their heads if he needed to. 

 

Charles has never really been in a fight before, but desperation and anxiety were amazing motivating factors.

 

It was time to go back home, and fly into the arms of his beloved Erik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do hope no one is disappointed in my last minute changes. Sorry if you are though!


	24. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles made it as far as the barn door before running into an obstacle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, stuffs been going on. 
> 
> Anyways, the next chapter is the official end, I hope you guys are ready.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Logan's fowl mouth, brief mention of rape, murder, and stalking.

Charles made it as far as the barn door before running into an obstacle. 

 

It wouldn't open, barely creaking as Charles pulled on it with all his might. Obviously, it was locked from the outside. Victor was more smart than Charles gave him credit for, locking Charles in on the off chance that he was able to escape his bindings. There was no other entrances to the building, either. 

 

Except for Charles’ faux bedroom window. 

 

Hope renewed, Charles ran to the end of the barn and dashed up the ladder, nearly tripping again on his haste to get to the window. Surprisingly, it wasn't locked like the barn door was. Apparently, Victor had severely underestimated Charles, not believing that the man would jump the two stories to the grass below in desperation to get out. 

 

Unfortunately for Victor, he was terribly wrong, and Charles did just that.

 

**

 

Being without Charles for so long after spending nearly every minute with the man since they met felt wrong to Erik. 

 

He missed Charles terribly, and his heart ached with longing and worry every day that he was gone. There was no telling what had happened to his poor schatz while he was in the possession of a deranged serial killer. 

 

Erik had been reassured by Detective MacTaggert more times than he could count that he wasn't going to hurt him, however. 

 

_ “This man is basically  _ in love  _ with Charles, or he believes he is at least, in his own twisted way. He's not going to want to hurt Charles unless Charles does something horribly stupid.”  _

 

It's not that Erik thought him stupid, he just thought him...stubborn. 

 

Charles was fierce, a fighter by any definition, and Erik has no doubt in his mind that his schatz has been fighting his kidnappers through all of this. He would go down swinging, whether it be with fists or words. It's how Erik  _ knows _ he's still alive, because Charles wouldn't let something like  _ this _ take him out of the world. 

 

Still, the absence of his schatz weighs heavily on his shoulders. Logan and Raven have been over every day since Charles was taken, keeping him company, helping him clean up and such. It's been nice, not having to go through it all alone, but Erik just wants his Charles back. 

 

_ Soon _ . Erik thought to himself, as if he could feel it in the pit of his stomach. 

 

_ Real, real soon.  _

 

_ ** _

 

Charles’ landing wasn't soft, despite the plush appearance of the grass. 

 

He didn't break anything, and the pain in his ankle was ignorable, so he considered it a win. Plus, he still had his makeshift weapon, which he hoes he didn't have to use.

 

The back of the barn faced a wide field, dead corn stalks stood droopily for what seemed like miles. Charles pressed himself flat to the wall of the barn and peered around the corner, but the only thing that greeted him was the massive farm house and an unfamiliar black sports car, shining like it was brand new. 

 

The perks of being friends with one Logan Howlett was that said man knew a bit about everything, including how to hotwire a car. Logan never told him  _ why _ he knew such a thing, but now he was grateful for it. 

 

Charles snuck over to car to investigate, careful to keep himself out of view of the windows. It was locked, of course, which meant that he was going to have to do something terribly desperate, and terribly, terribly stupid. 

Charles picked up a good sized rock, and chucked it at the passenger side window. 

 

The glass shattered instantly, glittering in the light of the mid morning sun, and very loudly. Charles ran off to hide behind an old propane tank nestled into some overgrowth beside a worn down shed. He was hidden completely from the eyes of the man that came bounding out of the house to investigate the broken window. 

 

It was Logan.

 

**

 

Today, it was just Erik and Raven, as Logan had gone to visit his brother at the farm they shared, which had been inherited from their father after his passing. Erik hasn't met Victor yet, but Raven tells him that he's a lot like Logan, only less attractive and more introverted. 

 

Not that it was going to matter after today anyways. 

 

“Charles has met him a few times.” Raven said, chewing around a piece of red licorice. “He mainly just likes to keep to himself though. Even more so than our dear Logan.”

 

They were at her place this time, because she thought that it would be good for Erik to get out of Charles’ flat for a few hours. They were watching some daytime television movie Erik's already forgotten the name of, various bags of sweets laid out on the table in front of them. 

 

It  _ was  _ sort of nice, being here at Raven's instead of cooped up behind beige walls that only served to make his soul clench. He liked Raven, and he was glad that Charles had someone like her in his life to take care of him when Erik was unable. 

 

Not that he ever planned to be. 

 

Not ever again. 

 

Erik took a stick of licorice out of the bag that Raven was offering him, and did his best to focus on the flashes of color and loud noises coming from the TV. There was a man jumping from building to building on the screen, gunshots chasing after him in vain. Erik snorted inwardly. He never did like action flicks. 

 

Charles did though, surprisingly enough, and Erik thought he would like this movie if he hasn't seen it already. Perhaps after Charles was returned, they would finally have the movie night they never got to have. 

 

Erik considered it a date. 

 

**

 

_ Logan?  _ Charles thought incredulously, his heart sinking a little in his chest. 

 

_ Logan wouldn't have done this to me, there's no way. He's probably just here to see his brother, and most likely doesn't even know I'm here.  _ He reasoned with himself. 

 

Logan didn't come out alone though, as Victor of course came with him. It was probably his car. 

 

“What the fuck happened to my car?” Logan growled around a cigar. “I just got this thing the other day!” 

 

_ Oh dear.  _

 

_ “ _ Looks like your window got busted in.” Victor stated the obvious. “I wonder how it happened.” 

 

Charles didn't miss the way his eyes flicked suspiciously over to the barn. 

 

“It was probably just some damn country kids tired of jerking it all day looking for something new play with.” Logan said, exasperated anger painting the edges of every word. 

 

He took the cigar out of his mouth to flick off the ashes into the gravel, peering down the driveway while he did so, trying to get a glimpse of the “children” that damaged his new car. 

 

Charles felt bad, and promised to pay for it if Logan didn't end up being just like his brother. 

 

“Whoever did it, they're gone now.” Victor said, eyes roaming subtly over all the land he could see. 

 

He was looking for Charles. 

 

Charles shrinked down even more behind the large propane tank, making sure nothing was sticking out of the overgrowth. He was scared that Victor might try to hurt (or even kill) Logan if Victor happened to notice he had broken out of the barn. 

 

“I'll go see if I have something to cover up with window with in the barn, that way you're not filling the backseat up with dust while you drive.” Victor said, already heading towards the barn. 

 

Logan simply nodded, distracted by the mess of a window. Charles waited until Victor had opened the barn door and stepped inside, shutting it slightly behind him, before stepping out slowly to greet Logan. 

 

“Logan, please tell me you're not in his side.” 

 

Logan jumped, and whipped around, eyes going wide in disbelief. 

 

“Charles! Charles, oh thank fuck, good job on getting out of the barn, there no way he was going to let me in there.” Logan looked slightly relieved, but still on edge and alert. “Come on we have to go  _ now. Right now.”  _

 

He grabbed Charles by the arm and tugged him to the passenger’s side, unlocking the door and quickly shucking off his leather jacket to lay on the glass sprinkled seat. 

 

“Go,  _ go.” _ Logan basically pushed Charles’ into the car, running to the driver's side and sliding in smoothly. 

 

A gunshot rang out, and Charles yelped. 

 

“ _ Shit.”  _ Logan cursed around the acrid cigar, viciously stuffing the key into the ignition, the car roaring to life around them. 

 

Another gunshot, this one much closer, shoots off Charles’ rearview mirror. 

 

“You should put your seatbelt on, Chuck.” Logan says, a small smirk on his face, before he slams on the gas and they go peeling out of the driveway and down a dirt road. 

 

**

 

Logan was the one to come up with the plan. 

 

It was as good of a plan as any, and Erik acquired new respect for the cigar inhaling man because of it, because it was going to save his schatz. 

 

The plan was simple, really:

 

Logan would drive all the way out to the farm, where Victor liked to spend his days off. It would be just like any other visit, except now Logan had the weight of knowledge about what his brother really was resting in his shoulders. 

 

Erik felt bad for the man. No one wanted to believe that someone they basically helped raise could turn out to be a stalking, serial killing, rapist. It was the first time Erik saw Logan cry, after Detective MacTaggert had broken the news to them that all the evidence they've found pointed to Victor, and it would probably be the last. 

 

After Logan arrived at the farm, he was to stake the place out essentially, and try to figure out where Victor was keeping Charles locked up. Once he had _ found _ Charles, dead or alive, he was to make to his leave and drive back down the road a few miles where half of the N.Y.P.D would be waiting (incognito of course) to race up to the farm, arrested the bastard, and bring Charles or his body back to the city. 

 

It was a good plan. 

 

What they  _ hadn't _ counted on, however was Charles doing half the plan by himself without even knowing about it, and Logan essentially freaking out and driving away with him. 

 

It didn't really affect the plan too much, however, because Victor Creed was still arrested for 15 counts of rape and murder in the first degree, as well as first degree stalking. 

  
He was given life in prison, with no chance of parole. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I know that this was wrapped up kinda quickly with a big pretty bow, but I just wanted there to be a happy ending. 
> 
> It if it isn't really all that realistic. 
> 
> Good thing this is fanfiction. 
> 
> Next chapter is Epilogue, coming soon to a computer or mobile device near you.


	25. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! I hope you had fun on the ride! Thank you so much for sticking with me and for reading! 
> 
> I really hope you like how it ends. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: descriptions of murder, rape, and torture.

The sun was no longer Charles' friend, as it had apparently decided to shine directly into his still sleeping eyes this morning.

Charles groaned his protest of the star out into the still of the room, tuning over once he heard Erik's answering moan. He shuffled closer to the sleep soft man, laid his tired head on his chest, and got a heavy arm wrapped around his smaller form for his troubles.

Charles sighed as Erik started to run his hand up and down his back, drifting away with the slightly ticklish feeling as he thought about where they were and how they got there.

 

It had been six months since Charles was returned home, injured and tired, but wholly alive.

The slow road to recovery had been a lot less bumpy than either of them had expected, but that's not to say that the tires didn't blow out every now and then.

When Charles first got back, he thought he was fine, because the doctors had told him he was fine. After diagnosing him with heavily bruised ribs and a sprained ankle, they sent him home with newly wrapped foot and prescription for pain medication strong enough to put down a horse.

Charles left it at that, only paying attention to his physical injuries, making sure his ankle and ribs healed correctly and as painlessly as possible.

Erik paid attention to his mental injuries.

If asked, Charles would deny that he needed _that_ kind of help, because nothing too terrible had happened. Sure, he had been beaten a few times, and threatened terribly, but overall he had been untouched, and had made it out alive.

Charles didn't think he had anything psychological to recover from. Aside from the horribly frightening night terrors, Charles was doing just fine.

Erik begged to differ.

He _knew_ how bad Charles was really affected by the whole thing, and he had the scratches to prove it. Charles' night terrors made him lash out into the empty night air in defense, and Erik was always there to catch his swinging hands and gentle him back down so he wouldn't hurt Erik or himself.

Charles had the first one just a few days after his rescue.

He dreamt that a man had come and cut Erik's throat open, right in front of him, blood pouring from the wound and pooling onto the sheets below. The man grabbed Charles while he sobbed for his beloved Erik, and took him back to that godforsaken farm, where he was chained to a stable wall instead of the bed of his mock bedroom.

That's when Victor showed up, a sinister smile splitting his face open, and impaled Charles through to the ground with his large hunting knives, keeping him immobile while the man tortured him, laughing at Charles cries of pain.

When Charles was no longer able to cry out, his voice gone and throat raw, Victor took him, violently and repeatedly, while Charles cluched weakly at his own heart with his once free hand, still beating steadily despite being crudely ripped from his chest.

The others that followed had the same horrifying plot, but each one seemed to get more vivid or brutal.   
  
Charles insisted he was fine, though, and could take care of him self. He did so by staying up as late as he possibly could by drinking cup after cup of strongly caffeinated tea and keeping himself distracted.

He'd grade papers, quietly watch mind numbing midnight television, solve that mornings sudoku, and even play mindless games on his phone. It would work for a while, but then he would scream himself awake after falling asleep on the couch or at the kitchen table, with Erik rushing to his side to soothe him.

Charles was always embarrassed afterwards, apologizing profusely to Erik, who would just shush him quietly and craddle the sobbing man into his arms.

This routine went on for two weeks before Erik had decided to take matters into his own hands.

He went to talk to Raven.

"Finally, I thought you'd never come around. Here." She said, shoving a white business card into his hand.

It was for a local therapist, whose office was just a few blocks from Charles' flat.

"I've been holding onto that since he came home. I'm glad you came over because he was never going to ask me for it, the stubborn little shit." She sniffled back tears.

"Good luck convincing him to go."

Charles fought him on it for three whole days before he finally snatched the card up off the kitchen table after a particularly bad night. Erik tried not to feel as victorious as he really was while he watched Charles angrily punch the number into his phone.

He an appointment the very next day.

Charles didn't like his therapist much at first, for the sole reason that didn't think he needed one.

Her name was Emma Frost, and she was one of the kindest souls Charles ever met. She offered Charles a cup of tea when he first arrived, sensing his unease, and didn't immediately insist on jumping right in to the bad stuff.

She was good at what she did too, because she had diagnosed Charles with PTSD after only three sessions.

Dr. Frost gave him a few options as to how to drive down his road to recovery, now that he had finally admitted that he _did_  in fact need help. Charles refused any and all medication because he didn't want to depend on the stuff to feel okay. He was given alternative methods instead, including informational pamphlets on PTSD and advice from Dr. Frost on how to take better care of himself at home.

Charles later changed his mind on medication, and got over the counter sleep aids after a few too many horrible nights in a row.

The pills made him sleep hard enough that he couldn't be bothered to dream, and while he woke up groggy sometimes, it was worth not waking up sweaty and afraid for once.

Continued sessions with Dr. Frost helped a lot too, and Charles and Erik both were finding that the road was sorting itself out. Potholes were being filled one by one, and the tire changes were becoming easier as well.

 

Charles was brought out of his reverie by Erik gently tapping him on the back, letting him know that he wanted to get up.

He protested this fitfully, not quite ready to leave the warmth of his lover's side, but eventually gave in under the promise of pancakes.

Just one of the things not tainted by a farm house.

Well, that and Logan.

Speaking of Logan, Charles needed to give him a call today and thank him for fixing the shower head, again.

Logan had felt terrible for what his brother had done, and decided to show it by constantly checking up Charles. He'd come over nearly day when they first got back, making sure that Charles was still safe and sound and that he was okay, practically hovering over the man's shoulders.

He didn't do it so blatantly, because he was Logan, but Charles knew what he meant by coming over to watch movies he wasn't interested in, or fixing things that weren't really broken.

Charles thought it was sweet, but eventually he had to let Logan rest.

"Logan, darling, you know you don't have anything to make up for right?"

Charles had said to his friend one evening after Logan had gone grocery shopping for them because he "knew that they needed a few things and was in the neighborhood anyways".

Charles expected him to deny everything, like he usually did, but surprised Charles by letting his shoulders droop in defeat.

"I just feel like I should've _known_ , you know? I mean, he was _my brother_ for fucks sake. I should've been paying better attention."

Charles had never seen the man so sullen before. It broke his heart.

"It's not your fault, Logan, and you know it. He did what he did because he was unwell and good at hiding it. No one knew, and no one could've stopped him if they tried."

Charles had said this firmly, hands coming up to grip the taller man by the shoulders.

"I appreciate everything you've done for me. I probably would even _be_ here if it weren't for you, but I'm _okay_. You don't have anything to prove or make up for. If you ever did, it was made up for the moment to drove me away from that place."

Logan smiled wetly at this, and let Charles pull him into a hug.

Later, Logan would deny that last part until he was blue in the face, but Charles carried it close to his heart.

Charles walked into the kitchen, stretching his sleepy muscles out on the way, while Erik hopped into the shower before he started his bribe breakfast.

He was just about to put the kettle on when something terribly hidden behind the sugar jar caught his eye.

It was a small, velvet lined box.

Charles heart jumped into his throat.

He picked it up with shaking hands and a racing pulse, just to make sure it was what he thought it was, and forgot to put it back when Erik walked out of the bathroom.

They both froze, breath halting in their lungs and eyes going wide.

Erik opened his mouth to say something, but all that fell out was stunned silence. He looked flustered, and caught off guard. Obviously, this wasn't the way he meant to do this.

Charles broke the staring contest first, happy to lose so he could see what was inside the little box.

He slowly creaked it open, and tears filled his eyes.

It was soon, perhaps _too_ soon. Charles knew that, they both knew that, but the only thing that Charles could think of to say was-

_"Yes."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after, the end! Yay! 
> 
> Come celebrate with me on Tumblr! 
> 
> @spidersonparker


End file.
